Bound
by jelenamichel
Summary: Against the backdrop of Jimmy's impending wedding, Tony and Ziva anxiously await the result of her citizenship application, and look for other ties to bind them together. A story of love, stress, celebration, lots of dialogue, and humor. T/Z focus.
1. Part 1: The Announcement

**A/N: A shippy multi-chap from jelenamichel? Wow, what a departure.  
This is set out of canon. No Rivkin, no Somalia, no rift. I'll explain why a little later. It also presents Tony's take on Ziva's citizenship application completely differently to how he reacted on the show.  
The story spans the timeline between an engagement and a wedding, but the chapters don't necessarily flow from one day to the next. I'll make every effort to make it easy for you to follow, though.  
Huge props to my Wonder Twin, SnoopMaryMar for casting a lovingly critical eye over the first nine chapters, and pointing out an enormous mistake that I was utterly blind to. Nice save!  
Hope you all enjoy the ride.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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**Part 1: The announcement**

Anthony DiNozzo was a man whose moods could be affected by the weather. Although generally even-tempered, an overcast or rainy day could make him punchy and prone to snarking, just like a day of sunshine could give him energy and make him want to sing. Today, he should have been singing. It was a brilliant blue-sky day of Technicolor beauty, with the sun warming his skin, the perfume of flowers in the air and butterflies chasing each other through the cool, lush grass. It was storybook beautiful, and if it were any other day Tony would have sat down in the grass with a smile on his face and possibly declared his love for all things bright and beautiful.

One such bright and beautiful thing was the woman walking beside him as he did a lap around the Navy Yard. He glanced at his companion out of the corner of his eye as she took her takeaway coffee from the barista stand in the park. Today she was another spot of brilliant color moving in the sunshine. Instead of turning up for work in her usual jeans or cargo pants, Ziva David had wriggled herself into a fitted, bright purple, sleeveless dress that stopped just above her knees. She was strutting around in deep red peep-toe stilettos, and she'd secured her hair in a low ponytail, her hair sweeping across her forehead to hide her widow's peak.

She was impractically dressed for a crime scene, but appropriately dressed to feature in the roughly 10 fantasies Tony had dreamed up in his first 60 minutes on the clock. Ziva seemed irritated by the parade of agents that had passed her desk as the morning wore on—apparently word had spread that the tough-as-nails assassin was looking particularly girly today—and this was part of the reason Tony had suggested that they go for a walk. If she sat at her desk much longer she would start displaying some of those death-by-paperclip skills.

Although she'd made his jaw hit the floor, she was also the reason that his step was less springy than it should have been and why he was too nervous to really appreciate the stunning summer's day. Ziva was dressed up not to encourage him to add to his already considerable bank of fantasies, but because she had a date in—he checked his watch—two hours with the INS. Her citizenship test was scheduled for later in the week (which would visit another round of fresh hell upon Tony's stomach lining) but today's interview would also form a critical part in Uncle Sam's decision to let her stay in the country. If today went badly, Ziva was screwed. Which meant Tony would be screwed. He relied on her too much to watch his back, keep his sanity in check and his happiness prevailing. If she had to leave the country…

He winced at the knotting feeling in his gut, and tried to relax the cramp with superfluous talk. "There's no reason to worry," he told her for probably the fourth time that day. Every time he said it, it had lost some more of its impact, and now it sounded desperate and panicked. But he was determined to cheer this thing along until they either passed the finishing line or died of exhaustion three feet from it. "It's just a formality."

He caught Ziva's head turn in his peripheral vision, and looked down at her. She had an odd look on her face, something halfway between 'you are annoying me' and 'please keep telling me that'. He shot her a smile to split the difference, knowing it would at least draw one out of her. She smirked and then sipped her coffee.

"If I just answer the questions honestly, everything will be fine," she said, repeating the other thing he'd already told her four times that morning.

"You do listen to me," he said, bumping her shoulder with his.

She blew out a laugh, and they headed for a raised garden at the edge of the lawn that was drenched in sunshine. Normally they'd take their drinks back to the bullpen, but it was such a nice day, and they had so much forced assurance to hand each other. With no open case on their desks, Tony figured they could probably stay out here for a half hour before he got a cranky phone call from Gibbs, and he intended to spend most of that time pretending that he was enjoying Mother Nature's gifts. Before they made it to the garden, though, a voice called out to them from behind.

"Hey, Tony! Ziva! Wait up!"

They turned in unison to see Jimmy Palmer jogging towards them with a huge smile on his face and a backpack over his shoulder. Tony wasn't sure exactly how old Jimmy was. He'd have to be at least in his late-twenties, probably early- or mid-thirties, but he always gave the air of a bubbly 12-year-old. Who was known to have sex in morgues.

"Hey, Palmer," Tony said when the ME's assistant joined them.

Jimmy was practically vibrating with excitement when he looked between them. "I'm so glad I saw you guys! I've got some great news, and…" He looked at Ziva and momentarily lost his train of thought. "Wow, Ziva, you look beautiful. Anyway, guess what?"

Tony and Ziva shared a look, and Tony braved the question. "What?"

Jimmy's smile practically split his face. "I'm getting married!" he cried, barely able to keep from jumping up and down. "I proposed the Breena last night at the Lincoln Memorial. You know, because she loves statues? And she said yes! Isn't that great?"

Both Tony and Ziva employed their unflappable cop faces.

"It is," Ziva told him, putting on a smile injecting just enough happiness into her tone to pass as believable. "Congratulations, Jimmy. It is wonderful news."

"Yeah, that's great, Jimmy," Tony offered, just as Jimmy surprised them both by lunging at Ziva and grabbing her in a bone-crushing hug.

Tony tensed, ready to pull his carcass away from the rabid lioness, but before he knew it Jimmy had released Ziva and turned the bear hug on him. He met Ziva's gaze over Jimmy's shoulder, and her eyes widened in amusement as Tony's bulged in shock. Then, almost as quickly as the assault began, it was over. Jimmy let go and started walking backwards in the vague direction of the main building.

"I'm just so happy," he told them. "She's perfect for me. I can't believe this is happening! I'm so lucky. I gotta go tell McGee." He started to turn, but another thought occurred to him and he spun back to face them. "You guys'll come to the engagement party, right? It's on Saturday. We're gonna do it all really fast and have the wedding by the end of August."

"Sure," Tony heard himself say, feeling almost overwhelmed by all the rapid fire information flying at them, but remembering there was a question in there somewhere.

"Absolutely," Ziva said, backing him up and assuring him that he'd said the right thing.

Jimmy sent them another megawatt smile. "Great! I'll see you then." He held his arms up in victory. "I'm getting married!" he whooped, and then turned and ran towards the building.

Tony and Ziva watched him leave and waited until he was out of sight before turning again and continuing their previous route to the garden in silence. Tony blew out a breath of disbelief as he hoisted himself up to sit on the waist-high ledge, and Ziva took him by surprise when she put down her cup and then stepped between his legs and placed her hands on his shoulders gently.

"Are you all right?" she asked earnestly, her expression completely deadpan.

Tony frowned. "Huh?"

He watched a glint enter her eye, and the corner of her mouth twitch into a curl. "I know you were hoping to spend forever with your man-crush."

It took him a moment to work out what she was talking about, but then he burst out laughing. Since Tony had used Jimmy as a sounding board in the months that Gibbs was retired down Mexico way, Jimmy had latched on to him keenly. Their relationship was hardly a fine bromance; Jimmy had a tendency to come on a little too strong, and it amused Ziva and McGee to no end.

"I'm his man-crush, Ziva," he reminded her. "Not the other way around."

"But I know you were close," Ziva continued to tease, now not bothering to keep a straight face.

Tony's tongue was firmly in his cheek when he replied, "I'll find a way to cope."

Ziva wrapped her arms around his shoulders and cradled his head to her. "Stay strong," she implored.

He laughed against her and enjoyed the touch for as long as he could. "Just try to be patient if you get drunken phone calls from me at three am."

"I am always patient with those calls," she replied, and then hoisted herself up to sit on the ledge beside him. She crossed her legs towards him, tugged her skirt down as far as it would go, and then picked up her coffee.

Tony's eyes quickly fell to her legs. Although she'd made an attempt at modesty, the hem of her skirt was now well above her knee, showing off stunning tanned, toned thighs. He looked away before she caught him.

"How long have they been together?" he wondered, turning attention back to Jimmy and his unexpected news.

Ziva shrugged. "Maybe six months."

It seemed like barely enough time to learn all her friends' names, let alone know that you wanted to marry a woman, but what did Tony know? "I guess when you know, you know."

Ziva paused. "Do you think he knows?"

"I hope so."

Ziva sipped her coffee as she thought about that. "How can you know after six months that you want to spend the rest of your life with someone?"

He almost laughed at her having the same thought as him. "I don't know. But some people do. He won't be the first person to marry in less time than the span of a TV season. My dad's done it…" He paused and cocked his head to the side as he tried to remember. "I'm actually not sure how many times. Four?"

Ziva looked up at him with a guilty expression. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but…Jimmy doesn't come from money, does he?"

She was reading his doubting mind. "No. And he's not exactly raking it in now."

"She is an American citizen, yes?" she asked, now wincing at what she was implying.

But Tony was completely on the same wavelength. "I think so."

They looked at each other silently for a few moments, letting their eyes have the inappropriate conversation.

Ziva cleared her throat. "Am I terribly evil if I want to do a background search on her?"

Tony grimaced. "We'll just do it quietly. Keep it between us unless we find something?"

"Okay." After a beat, she added, "I really do hope they are madly in love."

"Sure, me too," Tony agreed quickly. He thought about it for a little while longer, and a smile broke over his face. "It's be really nice if they were."

Ziva watched him with a neutral expression for a moment before smiling fondly and looking away.

He frowned at the look. "What?"

"You are such a romantic at heart," Ziva softly accused.

"I am not!" he protested, but then brought his coffee cup to his mouth to hide his smirk.

"You believe in love," Ziva argued back. "That is not a bad thing."

He glanced at her. "You don't believe in love?" he asked before he could consider the implications of exploring this.

"Yes," she said firmly. "But I do not necessarily believe in marriage."

"Did you used to be married to Gibbs?" he cracked, drawing a chuckle out of her.

Tony knew the conversation should end now, but he felt something more bubbling up inside him. In his right mind, he knew that he shouldn't push this. There was no good reason to share his private thoughts on the matter. But he didn't seem to have control over himself, and he soon found himself giving her his exact position on the subject.

"I never used to see the point in it. But I get it now. It's still largely symbolic for me, but that's kind of the point. It's saying to that person that you're on the same team. That you've got each other's backs. That they're everything to you." He paused, and attempted to swallow the rest down. But he was panicking over what would happen if she wasn't granted citizenship, and something inside him felt it was important that she heard it all.

"I didn't think it was possible to feel that way about one person for your whole life. I used to have this argument with Kate where I'd tell her that marriage was invented by cavemen who had a life expectancy of 25 years, so till death do us part actually wasn't that big of a commitment."

Ziva snorted into her coffee at the dose of levity in a conversation that was likely to weigh heavily on both their minds for the next few weeks.

"It drove her nuts," Tony told her, smiling at the memory of Kate's indignant expression. "She'd give me this Little Miss Know-It-All look and say that as soon as I stopped screwing around and paid attention to the world around me, I'd work it out." He shook his head. "Jesus, she was right. I'll have to tell Abby. She'll love it."

"So you started paying attention, and now you believe in marriage?" Ziva asked.

Hs thoughts drifted to Jeanne Benoit for just a moment. The entire relationship had been a lie, and it was always going to end. But towards the end, when he really had fallen for her, it had been far too easy to imagine that he might make that trip down the aisle eventually. Not because _he_ needed the ceremony and the ring, but because _Jeanne_ would have. If push came to shove over the issue he probably would have done it.

"I just understand why people want to do it," he told her. "I don't think it's for everyone. I think there are couples that marriage would damage rather than benefit. And I believe you can have a team, and have each other's backs, and commit to one person without the piece of paper and the ring." He paused as he looked down at his bare finger. "But I understand wanting to officially hitch yourself to one person for the rest of your life."

"I understand it as well," she admitted. "But I think you are right. It is not for everyone."

"No," he agreed, and looked over at her to find she was already looking at him. They held gazes for what felt like minutes, and somewhere in their silent conversation there was an acknowledgement of their circumstances.

_It's not for us._

A year ago, it may have seemed like a bold thought. But the fact was that they were together now. They both knew it. They'd never had a conversation about it, and they probably never would. But emotionally, they were there. Physically, they still had a way to go. They were comfortable enough to share a bed, and ended up doing that one or two nights a week when they told themselves it was too late to go home. They'd had several epic, down-to-their-underwear make-out sessions, but they'd both resisted taking things further. Not because they were unsure of each other or scared they were making the wrong choice. But with Ziva's citizenship application up in the air and no guarantee that she'd be able to stay in the US, keeping the physical barrier in place was their one and only defense against total heartbreak if she had to leave.

He gave her a soft smile, swallowed down his nerves over her application again, and shifted the spotlight back to their newly engaged friend. "I think Jimmy's the kind of person who needs it to be legal and official."

Ziva nodded. Tony heard her exhale of breath that she'd probably been holding the whole time they'd been watching each other. "He is adorable," she finally said. "Very sweet. Kind. Cute. Well educated. Stable."

He aimed a dubious eyebrow at her need to list all the reasons it wasn't crazy that someone would want to marry him after just six months of dating. Ziva just shrugged. She knew she didn't need to explain herself to him.

"Saturday night will be interesting," he said. "See them together. Work out how they fit."

"Profile them," Ziva said bluntly.

"Exactly."

Sensing the conversation was over, Ziva finished her coffee and then tossed the cup into a nearby trashcan. Tony tossed his after hers, and made the shot even through he wasn't looking.

"Show off," Ziva smirked.

"I used to play varsity for OSU, you know."

She turned a smile on him. "Yes, Tony, I have heard that once or twice."

He wasn't completely ready to go back inside yet, and looked for another source of amusement. His eyes immediately went back to her legs, before traveling back up to her face.

"You do look beautiful," he told her, echoing Jimmy's statement.

Ziva's head turned quickly in apparent surprise, and he gave her a completely non-leery smile to assure her he was serious. Then he promptly looked back down at her legs. "You don't wear skirts enough."

"They are not practical," she told him.

Tony believed her. He remembered how Kate would often wear a skirt and heels to the office, and if they got called to a crime scene, she would always have to run to the bathroom to change. Tony had never understood how Gibbs let her get away with it but he'd never complained. He'd always appreciated the view of her legs across the bullpen. Not as much as he appreciated the view of Ziva's, but there was a big difference between how he thought of the two women. Kate had been like a sister. Ziva…well, he could spend all day coming up with words to describe who _she_ was to him.

"You've got amazing legs, Ziva," he stated, presenting it as the fact that it was.

Ziva stretched one leg out in front of her so that he could see her foot. "Even better with stilettos, yes?"

"They don't hurt," he admitted. "You used to wear skirts and heels to the office."

Ziva's eyes drifted heavenward for a moment. She knew he wasn't going to drop this. "Have you ever tried sprinting in heels and a pencil skirt?"

"Once," Tony replied, gazing into the distance. "Greek Week. They make you do weird things."

Ziva closed her eyes, clearly blocking out the mental image before it could form. "Greek Week is a college fraternity thing, yes?" she asked.

"Yeah. But it's unlikely to feature on Uncle Sam's test."

She nodded. "We should get back," she said, checking her watch. "I will have to leave in about an hour."

The knot in Tony's stomach returned with a vengeance, but he ignored it and slipped his cheerleader uniform back on. After all, he was on her team, and he would always have her back.

He put his hand on her shoulder. "You're going to be fine. You've got this. You've got the director of a federal agency vouching for you. You've already been serving this country for five years. Your driving record's not great, but otherwise you haven't been in trouble since you arrived."

She gave him a skeptical look, and he backtracked. "Okay, you've been in trouble, but not through any fault of your own," he amended. "This is cake, Ziva. We've got this." He held his fist out, and she bumped it with her own.

Ziva slid off the ledge and squared her shoulders, and Tony could see her trying to fuel herself with his confidence. "Okay. Thank you."

"And it if doesn't go well, I'm sure I've got something on someone over in INS that we can use to blackmail them."

Ziva laughed, but he knew she wasn't sure if he was joking or not. "Okay, but let's make that Plan B."

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Full disclosure upfront: This was the shortest chapter in the story. From now on, word counts are going to get pretty high. You have been warned.**


	2. Part 2: The Debrief

**A/N: Another break in canon here, because I'm not particularly interested in dealing with Rivkin and Somalia. Although I think **_**Truth and Consequences**_** was the best episode this show has ever done (Weatherly, you magnificent bastard), overall I didn't care for the story arc and character assassination. So I present a slightly different reason for Ziva's quest for citizenship. I appreciate you indulging me.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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**Part 2: The Debrief**

By 1900 that night, Tony believed that his nerves had somehow managed to turn themselves into a corporeal army that was devouring the lining of his stomach. The darker side of him had spent the afternoon hoping for a callout to a grizzly murder that would keep his mind and hands occupied while Ziva had her date with destiny, but the Capitol region's sailors and marines had managed to stay safe and sound, leaving Tony to spend the afternoon fidgeting and clockwatching.

He had tried to tire out his tension with a long run in the park after work, but had ended up pushing his body past its limit. Five miles in, he had to take a detour off the tree-lined path to throw up in a trashcan. His pride told him it was due to the heat, the fact he hadn't had enough water during the day, the packet of M&Ms he had an hour before the run, and that he'd ran flat out for longer than he had since he was training for a pro ball career. That was his story, and he was sticking to it.

Except that since he'd gotten home, he hadn't been able to sit still. He'd cleaned the apartment, vacuumed, obsessively straightened magazines and wiped down every flat surface. No explicit plans had been made, but the invitation and acceptance to spend the night had been implicit. He knew Ziva would turn up sooner or later and bring with her a sense of how much his life would soon change and in which direction. But right now, being stuck in purgatory was killing him.

When finally she arrived, Tony opened the door to find a neutral expression that made his stomach drop. He swallowed hard and stepped aside to let her enter, and even though he thought he had a good idea of what she was going to say, he forced himself to ask the question.

"How'd it go?"

"All right, I think," she replied, dully. She dropped her handbag off a slumped shoulder to the floor, and dragged her stiletto-clad feet straight to the kitchen. "Do you have alcohol?"

Tony swung the door shut and brushed his hand down her back as he overtook her. "Sit down."

Ziva pulled out a stool from the kitchen counter, and dropped onto it with a heavy sigh. She braced her forearms on the tabletop, fingers spread, and dropped her head as she took a deep breath. Her shoes came off with a soft moan, and Tony winced at the pained look on her face. He hoped it was a result of too-tight shoes and not her afternoon grilling, but it was clear she was suffering from the latter as well. His throat tightened in panic, and he quickly looked away to grab two tumblers and a bottle of whisky before he felt his chest heave. He poured them both three fingers and then slid hers under her face. Ziva lifted her head to take a healthy slug, and Tony watched her with worried eyes. She looked exhausted.

"Hungry?" he asked.

She met his eyes to shoot him a tired but genuine smile. "Yes. Thanks."

He turned to the fridge and pulled out some chicken and random vegetables. He glanced over at her just as she pulled the band out of her hair and shook it, and he looked away again before he leaned over to drive his fingers through the thick strands.

"So, what did they ask?"

Ziva had to laugh. "It was like trying to get your security clearance again. Remember all those questions they as about every small and inconsequential detail of your life?"

"Yeah," he nodded. Talking about yourself for three hours might sound like a narcissist's wet dream, but most people got a sense of how stunningly boring they really were within the first half hour.

"It was twice as intense as that," Ziva said. "With a man twice as scary as Gibbs asking the questions." She hesitated, and Tony braced for whatever bomb was about to drop. "They asked a lot about Mossad," she said softly. "About Ari."

Tony flinched, and his hands stilled momentarily over the counter. Just the mention of Ziva's murdering half-brother's name made his heart slam in his chest, and he felt rage-drenched adrenaline wash through him. When he thought of Kate these days, he consciously blocked out thoughts of how she'd died and who was responsible. Her killer's name and face had not entered Tony's head for years and he had made a concerted effort to draw a clear line of separation between _him_ and Ziva. In the very early days, it had been the only way he'd been able to work with her and keep his sanity.

He took a deep breath as he again reminded himself of that separation. This conversation was unchartered waters for them. They had _never_ discussed _him_ and how his actions had hurt them both. It would be a hard discussion to have, but maybe it was needed.

He swallowed so that his voice was strong and not even slightly accusatory. "The triple agent thing?"

"The US Government does not appear to be willing to welcome family members of Hamas and Al Qaeda operatives with open arms," she stated, unable to keep the bitterness from her tone. "Can you imagine?"

Tony didn't think it was possible, but his hate for _him_ ratcheted up another few notches. He took a moment to unclench his fists and calm down, and then turned to make himself focus on _her_. Ziva's face, Ziva's eyes. His partner was not the terrorist who had put a bullet in his friend's head.

"Okay, but that was him, not you," he told her, surprised by how calm and rational he sounded. "And you've served this country for five years. You've made choices that have shown you to be faithful to this Government over Israel. You have a bunch of high profile Government officials vouching for you." He took a step over to her and softened his eyes and voice. "It's going to be okay, Ziva. They have to ask you these things but it doesn't mean that they're going to deny your application."

She looked up at him with wide, troubled eyes, but managed to crack a smile. "So, you are going to continue to play the role of the rational one here?"

The corner of his mouth lifted. "It's not the role I usually relish, but you've already claimed the anxious one. I don't have a choice."

She allowed him the ghost of a smile, but soon her expression was colored by something he rarely saw cross her face: uncertainty. "Am I stupid to even consider to his?" she asked, and he knew she was truly asking for his opinion. "I am hardly a model citizen, and I have done so many things…" She trailed off and dropped her eyes, and the guilt that crossed her face crushed him.

"No," he said firmly, reaching over to put his hand atop hers. "You're not stupid. And you've never had an ordinary job. You're not an ordinary immigration case. They know that, but that doesn't mean it's over."

Ziva hoped to God he was right, because if she wasn't granted citizenship she was absolutely screwed. Although Israel would always he her true home, she absolutely did not want her father to recall her. The time she'd spent out of his reach in the last few years had given her the space she'd needed to open her eyes and question his politics, and she was chilled by the conclusions he'd been forced to draw. She truly believed he was an evil man who used his army for his own agendas. Agendas that were at odds with what was best for Israel.

She also knew that Israel was perhaps the most dangerous place on earth for her to be. Eli believed that she had defected to the US, and Ziva knew with absolute certainty that he would punish her for her disloyalty as soon as it suited his plans.

Eight months ago, she'd believed that time had come. She had been leaving a restaurant with Tony and Abby on a chilly, windy night, and had been walking behind Tony, using his body as a largely ineffective windbreak. As they'd crossed the street to Tony's car, Ziva had noticed two men in a dark sedan two spaces down from the Mustang. One man's face was hidden behind the camera he had pointed at her, but the driver was familiar to her, though she couldn't immediately place him. The men were obviously unconcerned with her seeing them and the driver had even smiled and nodded at her in a way that filled her with the adrenaline that came before a fight. She'd been too scared to get into the car with Tony and Abby in case it put them in danger, and instead took the metro home. As soon as she walked through the door, she'd torn her home apart looking for bugs. She destroyed the two that she found, and then sat up the entire night, watching the door with her gun in her hand.

The next morning, Eli had sent her an email that was similar to every other email he sent her, except that he'd signed off by advising her to take a jacket when she went out on cool Washington evenings. Perhaps she was paranoid, but Ziva read his words as a threat.

Ziva was not the kind of person to make rushed, impulsive decisions. But by 1700, she'd managed to change her life. She took a huge gamble and spoke to Vance about quitting Mossad, applying for US citizenship, and joining NCIS as a full special agent. She didn't trust his words of support until his official offer of employment came through just before lunch, and even then she was waiting for the sky to fall in as she resigned from Mossad and accepted Vance's offer. That afternoon she began the immigration process, informed the stunned team about what she had done, and then went to the ladies room and had a panic attack.

Since then, Ziva had endured a brutal phone call from Eli David, dodged half a dozen more, had suffered through a visit from Officer Bashan, and gotten through a handful of tense visits from other Mossad operatives she had worked with in what she felt was another life. Each of them advised her that she was making a dangerous mistake, but had stopped short of making outright threats. It had her on her toes and looking over her shoulder, and Ziva was putting all her trust in Vance not playing her. If Vance truly had her back on this—and Gibbs believed he did—then Eli would be stupid to make a move on her or her friends. Fingers would be pointed at him if Ziva so much as caught a cold, and Eli absolutely could not afford to rock his political relationship with Vance. All he could do was try to pressure Ziva into returning to her homeland. But if Ziva did that, either by choice or courtesy of the US Government after they rejected her application and threw her out of the country, she knew she was as good as dead.

She felt another panic attack coming on, and so pushed the thoughts from her mind and focused on letting Tony's assurances and forced confidence lead her.

"Okay," she said with a nod. "It was not all bad. I did not strangle it."

"Choke it," he corrected with a smirk, and then went back to preparing dinner. "You haven't choked anything in your life, Ziva. I can't see you starting now."

Ziva chose not to point out all the ways in which that statement was wrong. "Did Jimmy's news spread around the building?"

He shot her a grin over his shoulder. "You should've seen the look on Gibbs' face. Total disbelief and warning. Abby just about wet herself with excitement. Ducky was a typical gentleman. And McGee kind of had the same thought as us." He waved his knife at her. "Which reminds me. I did a little background search on Breena this afternoon? Nothing hinky. Or at least nothing to suggest that she's got a secret agenda in marrying him. In fact, it's _her_ family that's loaded. If anything, Jimmy's the one winning from this."

"Jimmy does not have a deceitful bone in his body," Ziva told him.

"Exactly."

"So, they really just love each other?"

Tony looked over at her, and they shared a quick smile. "Seems like it. I never thought Jimmy would be the first one to get married."

"You were expecting Gibbs again?" she guessed.

"Weren't you?"

Ziva shook her head. "No. I thought it would be McGee."

Tony made an agreeable face at the chicken he was slicing up. "He comes from a stable, loving, well-adjusted family. Makes sense." He turned to grab a lemon from the fridge, and missed Ziva's smirk at his veiled suggestion that the rest of them were completely screwed up. "So, you don't think he and Abby…?"

Ziva finished her whisky, and then got up to join him at the counter. Tony pushed the vegetables towards her and let her take over the knife work. She enjoyed it far more than he did.

"I think that they have probably missed their chance," she replied, selecting another knife from the block and holding it over a handful of green beans. "How long did they date for?"

Tony stuck a bean in his mouth. "Hard to say. They were very quiet about the break up. But I think it was about a year."

"How long ago was that?"

"I don't remember," he said, shaking his head. "A couple of months before you arrived, I think."

"Hmm," she grunted.

Tony waited for her to elaborate, but when she didn't, he tried to prompt her. "Hmm?"

"It is a long time to be apart if you are still thinking of going back to each other," she told him. "Do you know why they broke up?"

Tony made a thinking face. "Kate said something about Abby feeling like it was too much pressure. I got the impression that McGee wanted to move in to a long-term, serious relationship thing, but Abby just wasn't looking for that at the time."

"Well, McGee certainly still wants that in his life," Ziva said confidently.

Tony glanced at her. "Did he tell you that?"

She shrugged. "Not explicitly. But it was implied."

He looked at her properly, curious about how she'd drawn that conclusion. "You often have heart-to-hearts with McGee?"

She smiled up at him enigmatically. "Not always. Sometimes." Tony continued to stare at her, clearly expecting her to share more information. She had pity. "He talks to me when he is particularly upset."

"About what? About Abby?" he asked. How had he missed that Ziva and McGee were having deep and meaningful discussions when the three of them spent 16 hours a day together?

"Well, who else can he talk to?" Ziva countered. "Gibbs? Abby? You?"

"Why not me?"

Ziva looked at him with utter disbelief. "Really?"

"Yes," he said defensively.

Ziva put down the knife and turned her body to him, resting her hip against the counter. "Tony, you make fun of him for his sandwich filling. I am sure he would like to talk to you about these things. He _does_ look up to you, as much as he will refuse to admit it. But you do not always make life easy for him."

Tony felt a pang of guilt as he imagined McGee's wounded puppy expression. To him, McGee was the younger brother he never wanted but was glad to have, regardless. He knew that he razzed on him, but there _was_ a very good reason for it. "It's my job."

"Your job is to tease him every day?"

"Yes," he replied, and immediately held up a hand to still the argument that was about to jump out of her mouth. "It is! It's my job to turn him into a better agent. If I give him crap, he'll be able to cope with it when I'm not around anymore. He'll probably stay with Gibbs for a few years after I go, and he's got to learn how to deal with that. Not just the demands of the job and how to do it properly, but how to deal with Gibbs when I'm not there to cushion the blow. I tease him and give him crap because it makes him think about what he should be doing. I'm _teaching_ him. And it's better that I do it, as someone who cares about the agent he is and the person that he is, instead of the hard-ass he'll work for after Gibbs who might not be so accommodating with our sometimes timid Timmy."

Ziva's argument died on her lips as she listened to his reasoning. She had to admit there was a twisted intelligence to it, and she'd seen first hand how far McGee had come in the last few years. Although Gibbs had helped by throwing McGee a word of praise here and there, it was Tony who had put the work in and made McGee the agent he was now. He was Tony's probie, not Gibbs'. And Tony had equipped McGee with most of the tools he needed to become Gibbs' number one when Tony decided to leave. The rest was up to McGee.

"Who taught you how to deal with Gibbs?" she asked.

Tony flashed her a smile dripping with self-confidence. "I worked it out on my own. But I'd been a cop for seven years before I came aboard, including a stint in Baltimore. So don't think I hadn't been hazed." He reached around her to grab a glass dish out of the cupboard, dumped the chicken in it, and started squeezing lemon juice all over it. "Abby gave me a few pointers, but her way of dealing with Gibbs is slightly different to what I can get away with."

Ziva chuckled. "Was he married when you came to NCIS?"

"Nope. But he was still pretty cranky about all the money wife number three—no, four—took from him," he said, reaching for his half-full glass of whisky. "I think he was struggling pretty bad. And now I know he was still probably stinging from breaking up with Jenny." He paused to sip his drink and think about that. "I think that's where rule 12 came from. A rule of protection."

"For him," Ziva felt compelled to add.

Tony nodded as he watched the side of her face. He knew what she was getting at. Gibbs may have needed the rule, but not everyone else did. "Yeah."

Ziva ignored the sudden thickness in the air, and bent over to grab a saucepan out of the cupboard. "Did he know about Abby and McGee?"

"Yeah."

"He didn't mind?"

Tony abandoned his search of Ziva's rear for a panty line as she stood up again. "He didn't seem to. He gave McGee crap about it but he was never angry. They never gave him reason to be, I guess. And they weren't field agents together. If they got distracted by each other, they'd just have to run a test again, you know? But for Gibbs and Jenny…"

Ziva was acutely aware of what he was trying to say. She turned to the sink to fill up the saucepan and give herself slightly more space. "He took a round in the thigh," she said. "Jenny told me. That and more. One in the shoulder. He got himself captured in Paris, and…" She trailed off, feeling as though she should stop airing Gibbs and Jenny's dirty laundry, even if it was only Tony that she was sharing it with. She shook her head. "Of course, I have only heard her side, but she said he was far more distracted than her. They worked on their own for so long. It would be hard not to be."

She put the saucepan on the stove and then turned to meet his eyes. He was looking at her with an expression she couldn't read, but that made the back of her throat sting and her cheeks flush. Her eyes fell away and landed on the bottle of whisky. She poured herself another glass, and refilled his.

"That's why they broke up," Tony said, but she couldn't work out if it was a statement or a question. She answered him anyway.

"She told me she was worried that he would end up being killed," Ziva said. She thought back to the camp in Cairo when Jenny's lips had been loosened by drink and Ziva knew nothing of the man she spoke of. She found it hard to reconcile the man she now knew with the impression she had originally been fed. "And she was not interested in being a career field agent. Obviously. She suggested that he was not particularly supportive of her goal to make Director."

Tony raised a knowing eyebrow. That much had been clear. "Yeah, but I think it might be difficult to be partners for a couple of years, and then suddenly one of you is all wieldy with the power."

His strangely phrased comment made her smirk, and broke through the heavy air that was beginning to settle on their shoulders. It was a welcome diversion, and she played with him so as to lighten the mood, and not allow them to dwell on the fact that they were walking a thin line.

"Are you saying that you would not support my decision to become Director of NCIS?"

His smile spread slowly over his face, until he was looking at her with amused affection. "Uh, you know what? If you want to go for it, I will not stand in the way of your dreams. But I will bet everything I own, including my Mustang, my vintage _Thunderball_ poster and my entire DVD collection that politics is not your dream."

She smacked his arm as she passed him to pick up the chopping board. "Safe bet. So rule 12 is more of a guideline for others, yes?"

Tony breathed out a laugh. "I refuse to answer that on the grounds I may end up with a significant head injury if Gibbs hears my true thoughts on the matter."

She took that to mean he agreed with her. "His one about saying sorry is weak as well."

"I definitely don't buy into that one," he said, shaking his head.

She brushed past him to return to the stove. "Not as weak as the one you have about never dating a woman who can eat more than you. Or the other one about asking a woman her weight on a first date." She turned to him with a frown. "Why would you _ever_ ask that? What does it even matter?"

Tony held his hand up defensively. "Okay, my rules have evolved somewhat since I made those."

"What is DiNozzo's rule number one?"

Tony sipped his drink. "That hasn't changed. Never screw over your partner."

Ziva put a lid on the saucepan and moved beside him again with a smile. "I agree with that one. It is much more useful than never date a fat chick."

Tony stuck his tongue in his cheek and refused to rise to the bait. "What's David's number one?"

She leaned against the counter and gazed at a spot on his shoulder as she thought. "It used to be just do your job and don't ask questions."

He looked at her knowingly. "Kind of flies in the face of the whole investigator thing, huh?"

"Yes. I think I might copy yours."

Tony smiled, and clinked his glass against hers as if making a pact. "You know I said screw _over_, right?"

She lifted her face to smile up at him. "Yes, Tony. I got the distinction."

With her part of the meal taken care of, Ziva returned to her stool. Tony slid the chicken in the oven and then pulled out the other stool to sit beside her.

"Are we supposed to get Jimmy a present?" he wondered.

Ziva shrugged and leaned over the counter to reclaim the bottle of whisky. "I am not sure. It would be nice. I will talk to Abby and Ducky tomorrow and suggest they handle it for us all if they think it is appropriate."

That was the easy, low-stress answer he was after. "Okay."

She smirked at him. "Do you think Gibbs will go to the engagement party?"

"I think there's a better chance of Gibbs letting us take all the overtime we're owed than him celebrating matrimonial bonds."

Ziva snorted into her glass and then swung herself off her stool and headed for the living room. "Is _Sportscenter_ on?"

Tony stared at her back in shock. "Are you all right?" he called after her. When the _hell_ had she ever wanted to watch _Sportcenter_?

Ziva picked up the TV remote from the coffee table and smiled to herself. "Fine," she called back. "I am just trying to help you keep your mind off losing Jimmy."

Tony got up and peeked at her from around the kitchen wall. "You know what would help with that?" he played along. "If you put on some Peggy Lee and danced around in your under—" he ducked the cushion that came at his head, "—wear."

* * *

Two hours later, dinner had been cleared and Tony was reclining on the couch with his feet up on the coffee table. Ziva lay beside him, taking up the remainder of the couch and resting her head on his thigh as she dozed. He was vaguely aware that one of his fingers was wrapping itself over and over in her curls, but until she woke up and snapped the finger off he felt he was safe.

He focused on the sports news, and scoffed at an interview with a coach talking up his team's chances to make the playoffs. "Not without Grundy, you wont," he muttered.

"They've still got Lacey," Ziva said unexpectedly. "He's the best pitcher in the league."

Tony looked down at her with a deep frown, and then stroked her hair soothingly. "Shh, you're dreaming. You don't know what you're talking about."

"I do," she murmured. "I pay attention."

Tony had to admit that she did. She'd actually made a good point. "You've come a long way, Sweetcheeks. You didn't know a damn thing about baseball five years ago."

Ziva took a deep breath. "You talk a lot," she explained.

Tony affected a deeper tone. "Although he is generally a very bright child, Anthony's inability to sit still and remain quiet impedes his academic development."

Ziva snorted into his thigh. "Didn't they know that if you stop talking, you die?"

"No one understands me like you," he said lightly.

"Well, I spend 16 hours a day with you," she replied, and then turned her face into his leg to yawn.

She had a strong point. "Are you up for physically attending a game yet?"

"A baseball game?" she said, wrinkling her nose.

"What? No," he said, as if the suggestion was ridiculous. "I'll take you to something much more violent."

"No one understands me like you," she repeated.

Tony smirked at the call back. "Hockey," he suggested. "High chance of a brawl, a couple of concussions, blood on the ice and if you're really lucky, maybe a broken bone or two."

"Yes, I can do that," she agreed, sounding much more interested. "Does OSU have a hockey team?"

"Yeah, of course," he said like it was obvious. "But I'll take you to an NHL game."

"Okay." She paused. "Were you really going to play professional basketball?"

Tony glanced down at her, but her eyes were closed. "Yeah."

"Did you know it was over?" she asked gently. "When you were falling, and you were feeling that pain in your knee. Did you know that was it?"

They'd never talked about it before, and he thought it was strange that she'd ask about it now. But he saw no reason to not reply. "Probably, deep down. But I didn't really accept it until maybe three months later."

"You'd worked so hard for it."

Tony shrugged and spread his fingertips through the ends of her hair. "Well, yeah. It's hard to completely focus yourself on something and then lose it in seconds. It's hard to accept it's gone."

Ziva nodded against his thigh. "Do you think that what you have now makes up for not having what could have been?"

This time, Tony abandoned the TV and kept his eyes on her. She was obviously trying to get at something in particular, he just couldn't work out what. "Yeah, I think so. If I'd gone pro, I probably would have been a millionaire by the time I was 25, then developed a nice drug habit, bought a stack of Italian cars, the mansion, and retired at 29 to spend the rest of my days snorting coke off a hooker's ass. I know it sounds like the perfect life, but…"

He trailed off when Ziva gave him the chuckle he was looking for, and then turned serious again. "I really loved playing, but I don't think it would have filled me up, you know? What I do now fills me up. The weird family we have fills me up. I think I'm probably in a better place. On most days."

She opened her eyes and smiled up at him. "On the rest of those days, would it make you feel better if I let you snort coke off my ass?"

Tony broke into a full smile as she surprised a laugh out of him. "Probably for a little while, yeah. Thanks." He shot her a curious look. "Why the interest in my coulda-been career?"

"Just curious."

Her tone had been casual, but Tony could tell there was something going on under the surface. He twisted his lips, and weighed up the intelligence of sticking his toe into the dark waters he was thinking of. But if she'd just asked about his past, he thought he was within his rights to ask about hers.

"Do you regret giving up Mossad for NCIS?"

"No," she replied quickly, definitively.

He blinked at her conviction. "Not even a little?"

She shook her head as she looked up at him again. "No. I did not want to do that anymore. I had not wanted to for a long time. When I requested the liaison position I saw it as my chance to change things. It was a gamble but it paid off in shovels. And I certainly do not regret resigning."

"Spades," he said, although he was focused on something else she'd said. "You requested the liaison position?"

"Yes." She frowned. "You did not know that?"

"No, I had no idea."

Ziva closed her eyes again. "I do not regret coming here. I have no regrets about quitting. I am positive I am in a better place. I just hope I will be allowed to stay."

That was the understatement of the day. He rested his hand gently on her head to get her attention. "You're not going anywhere. I already told you that."

The corner of her mouth pulled back. "Right, blackmail the INS. Got it."

**

* * *

People, I don't know a damn thing about American baseball. Or **_**any**_** baseball. I pulled player names out of my butt, so don't email me with an argument over why I'm wrong about anything in the above conversation. I know you sports-minded people can get passionate.  
Thanks for all your lovely reviews of chapter one, and for all the story alerting and favoriting going on. It's a hell of a way to start the new year.**


	3. Part 3: The Engagement Party

**A/N: Tip o' the hat to SnoopMaryMar for her red pen work.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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* * *

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**Part 3: The Engagement Party**

At 1920 on Saturday, Tony sat at a circular table at Aubergine, one of the city's classiest restaurants. To his left was a fidgety guy about Jimmy's age in a black suit and shirt and a woman with striking red hair, pale skin and a bright green dress. They were obviously a couple, but Tony placed the woman well out of the man's league. Next to them was a married couple who looked younger than Jimmy but were dressed decades older than they were. They were having a conversation about having to leave before 10pm so they could get home before they had to pay their sitter a higher rate. Abby had the seat next to them and she was talking rapid fire to McGee, who was sitting beside her. The chair between McGee and Tony _should_ have been occupied by Ziva by now, but it appeared his partner in crime fighting was going for the fashionably late look.

He checked his watch for the third time in five minutes, and then did a quick and fruitless visual search of the restaurant and the street outside. His eyes fell on Abby, who gave him and the chair beside him a pointed look. Tony shrugged back like he wasn't worried that the usually maddeningly punctual Ziva was 20 minutes late. Just because Ziva was usually early for things didn't mean that tonight some psycho in her father's employ had snatched her from her apartment and thrown her into the back of a windowless van en route for a private airfield where she'd be forced onto a plane and—

He stopped that line of thought before he truly panicked, then pulled his cell phone out of his pocket to type out a quick text message.

_You're late._ _Abby's starting to pout at me._

Better to blame it on Abby than make himself sound paranoid and needy. He hit send, then passed the cell phone end-over-end through his fingers while he waited for a reply.

"Is that a Blackberry?"

Tony turned his head to look at the fidgety guy beside him and gave him a quick once-over. He replied after he decided that the man wasn't a threat. "Yeah."

"Shelly wants one of them." At Tony's blank look, the guy pointed at the redhead next to him. "This is Shelly. I'm Frank."

"Tony."

"How do you know Jimmy?"

"We work together," Tony replied, and then looked around for help. Abby and McGee didn't look like they were coming up for air any time soon and Ducky was at another table with Jimmy's Aunt Molly, an anthropologist. Where the hell was Ziva when he needed her? Some partner _she_ was.

"Oh yeah?" Frank said, grey eyes widening at what seemed to be an area of interest for him. "So, you're one of those CSI guys?"

Tony shot him one of his fake smiles over gritted teeth. "Close. NCIS."

Shelly suddenly leaned over Frank's lap with a big smile. "Oh, wow! Do you carry a gun?"

Tony gave her a measuring look and made a mental note to ask Jimmy about his choice in friends. "What's your connection to Jimmy?" he asked instead of replying.

"We went to college together," she said, before smacking Frank's arm. "Frankie? Swap with me. I want to pick Tony's brains about his job."

If Frank cared that his girlfriend was making eyes at another guy, he didn't show it. He stood up and dutifully swapped with her without a word. When Shelly sat down again, her long hair brushed Tony's shoulder and he inhaled the scent of roses. Two years ago, Tony would have taken the opportunity to flash her his most charming smile. But now, he just checked his phone for Ziva's text reply.

_Be right there._

His worry receded when it appeared that she was indeed safe and sound, but he craned his neck to check the front door of the restaurant anyway. No Israeli Wonder Woman sighting just yet. He smirked at his new name for her. Ziva _was_ Wonder Woman. And Sydney Bristow. And Lara Croft. He would definitely buy her action figure.

Meanwhile, Shelly was trying to get to know him. "How long have you worked at NCIS?"

Tony honestly couldn't remember off the top of his head. "Uh, a long time." He tried to deflect her attention elsewhere and pointed across the table. "Abby and Tim also work for NCIS. And Tim's a double-threat. An agent _and_ a best-selling author."

Shelly looked over at McGee appraisingly. "Oh yeah? What did he write?"

"_Deep Six_," Tony said, injecting a little awe into his tone to help sell her interest. "It was on top of the _New York Times'_ best-seller list for six weeks. He's going to be the next Tom Clancy, you know."

Shelly wrinkled her nose. "I'm not really into those kinds of books."

Tony couldn't blame her. He hated them too. "Abby is the agency's forensic specialist."

"What does that mean?"

"She spends the day working out blood spatter patterns and playing with guns and dangerous chemicals."

Shelly turned her awed expression to Abby, but McGee was the one who looked up. His gaze went over Tony's left shoulder and he sat up straighter, his interest obviously captured by whatever he saw. The hair on the back of Tony's neck pricked and he looked over his shoulder.

"Oh, hey," he threw to Ziva, and then looked her up and down as she stood beside him. "_Yowza_," he muttered. No wonder McGee was staring. Her hair was in relaxed curls, and was wearing a thigh-skimming red silk kimono dress that Tony had dreams about. She wasn't wearing stilettos, but the shoes still gave her about another four inches of height and did things to her calves that made his mouth water.

"Is this seat taken?" she asked, resting her hand on the empty chair beside him.

"It's yours."

Ziva pulled out the chair and took a seat, and shot a distracted smile at her friends. "McGee," she greeted the suddenly blushing agent. "Abby."

Abby gave her a big smile and an enthusiastic wave as McGee glanced at Tony and quickly looked away again. Tony read the impure thoughts on McGee's face, but at least the guy had the grace to look embarrassed.

"Hey, Ziva," McGee said. "You look…nice."

Ziva shot him another distracted smile. "Thank you," she said, and then pointed at Tony's tumbler of whiskey. "Is this yours?"

"Yeah," Tony replied, even as Ziva reached over to pick it up. He watched as she threw it back in one gulp and set it back on the table with a thud. "But you can have it," he added uselessly.

Ziva leaned closer to speak quietly to him. "I got pulled over again."

Tony broke into a grin at the explanation for her tardiness, and his worry evaporated. He now had something to pull her hair about all night. "For what?"

"Apparently I was speeding and weaving between lanes in an intoxicated manner," she said hotly. "They made me take a field sobriety test."

"You flash them your badge?" Tony asked.

"And then some," Ziva muttered. "I think perhaps it was the 'some' that got me off the ticket."

Tony's eyes fell to her thighs as he thought about all the traffic stops he'd made when he was in uniform. It wasn't exactly by the book, but Tony knew he probably would have let her off the speeding ticket too.

"Well, as extraordinary as your 'some' is," he said, drawing a raised eyebrow from her, "it won't get you off a DUI if you keep drinking like that tonight."

"I was not planning on driving home," Ziva stated.

This time, it was Tony's eyebrow that rose. He allowed, though, that if anyone had a right to be confident about their chances of picking up tonight, Ziva certainly did. Especially since she was supposed to be picking _him_ up. He'd go home with her right now if she suggested it.

But that wasn't what Ziva had meant. "I was not planning on driving at all but I was running late."

Tony was about to comment on activities that may have held her up when Ziva suddenly spun in her seat and grabbed a passing waiter by the arm.

"Can we get two whiskies, neat, and two beers. Thanks." She turned back to Tony, and frowned at his slightly awed expression. "What?"

The corner of his mouth turned up. "How did you know I was going to move on to beer after whiskey?"

She looked at him like it was obvious. "Because you always do, Tony," she replied, and then shot him an amused smile. "And after beer, you move on to girly cocktails."

"I do not," he argued.

"Well, you never buy those yourself," Ziva said, crossing her legs and exposing more thigh. "You just drink half of mine. Or Abby's."

Tony rolled his eyes. "Yeah, and you _never_ commandeer my drinks."

Ziva opened her mouth to protest just as Tony held up his empty glass as evidence. She scrunched up her nose at being exposed as a liar. "So we are even, yes?"

Tony didn't get a chance to reply before Shelly leaned over him and stuck her hand out at Ziva.

"Hi! Welcome to the party. I'm Shelly."

Ziva glanced at the hand, and plastered a smile on her face as she shook it. "Ziva."

Shelly frowned. "Beg your pardon?"

Ziva glanced at Tony, who widened his eyes briefly in acknowledgement. "Zee-vah," repeated with the same inflection Tony often used to annoy her. "It's my name."

Shelly had the grace to look embarrassed. "Oh! Right, sorry. I play drums, so I'm a little bit deaf at times."

"Of course," Ziva said sweetly, and then gently kicked Tony under the table.

Tony held back his smile. "So, Shelly went to college with Jimmy," he told Ziva.

Ziva shot him a look he clearly read as _what the hell do I care?_ But the look she turned on Shelly was nothing but polite. "Oh. Did you also study medicine?"

Shelly shook her head. "No. Industrial design."

She got twin blank looks in reply.

"I did not grow up in the US," Ziva qualified. "What does that mean, exactly?"

Shelly's eyes lit up, and Tony discreetly elbowed Ziva for the ear-bashing he predicted was coming. "Oh! I design chairs and stuff."

Ziva made what Tony had dubbed her _does not compute_ face. "I thought we had the design of chairs figured out."

Shelly laughed as if Ziva had made a joke. "Yeah, we do. But I do it for art. Functional art."

"Oh," Ziva said, and then couldn't think of a thing to follow up with. She nudged Tony, handballing the conversation back to him.

"So…is that a four-year degree?" he asked, grasping at straws.

Shelly nodded. "Yeah. It was great. Did you do your undergrad at Boston too, Ziva?"

Ziva opened her mouth to respond, but Tony jumped in first.

"No, Ziva got her degree in ninja. It's very specialized, so she had to go to Japan. It was five years…" He turned to look at Ziva's neutral expression. "Was it five years? Yeah, it was supposed to be six, but she's got a natural talent and got a year cut off."

Shelly nodded along, inexplicably buying every word. "Wow. That's amazing. Is your family from Japan?"

For a moment, Ziva couldn't work out if she was serious. When it because clear that she was Ziva played along, mostly because she knew it would amuse Tony. "No, Indonesia," she said with a straight face.

Shelly gave her a genuine smile that almost made Ziva regret it. "I was gonna say, you've got that beautiful skin."

"Thank you," Ziva said, and was then saved from lying further when the waiter returned with their drinks. "Thank you!" she said, far more enthusiastically. "Keep them coming, please."

Tony reached for his whiskey as she reached for hers, and the leaned in to speak into her ear. "Maybe if I speak to you like this she'll think that we're having a private conversation and leave us alone."

The corner of Ziva's mouth lifted. "Degree in ninja?" she repeated softly.

"Indonesian?" he threw back. He pulled back just far enough to see her eyes. "You do have beautiful skin, though."

Ziva wrinkled her nose and turned her head at what she considered to be teasing. "Shut up, Tony."

It took a great amount of self-control for Tony not to lean in and kiss her neck. Instead, he took another burning sip of his drink, and wondered how touchy-feely he'd be able to get with her tonight before things became too obvious to their friends.

* * *

A while later, when Tony left to check in with Ducky between mains and dessert, Shelly slid onto the vacant seat beside Ziva and fixed her with a little-more-than-tipsy smile.

"It's fun, right?" she said. "All the celebration and wedding stuff."

Ziva smiled politely. "It's very nice."

"So, where'd you meet?"

Ziva frowned. "Jimmy?" she checked.

Shelly giggled and put her hand on Ziva's arm. "No, Tony!"

Ziva was just as unclear about why Shelly was asking about Tony as about Jimmy. "At work."

"What do you do?" Shelly asked, looking far more interested than any acquaintance had the right to be.

"I am a federal agent with NCIS," Ziva replied.

Shelly stared at her for a moment, before she broke into a big smile. "Oh! You work at the same place. I get it." She waved her hand through the air and almost took out Tony's wine glass. "I thought you meant you were, like, a barista or a sales clerk or something, and he walked in and…"

Ziva shook her head and cut her off, not able to stand the torturous conversation. "No, we work at NCIS together. Same as Jimmy and Abby and Tim."

Shelly's expression showed her apology. "I get a little fuzzy when I drink," she confided.

Ziva nodded, and threw back some of her own drink.

"So, how long have you been together?"

It suddenly clicked with Ziva that Shelly thought she and Tony were a couple, and she felt her cheeks inexplicably flush. It wasn't the first time someone had thought that, and they certainly were more of a couple now than they'd ever been in the past. It shouldn't have had the cheek-flushing, belly-fluttering, skin-tingling effect on her that it did, but it was no use telling her body that.

"Five years," Ziva replied, deciding it was easier than explaining the whole situation to a stranger. Hell, she already thought that Ziva was Indonesian and had a degree in ninja. What was one more lie?

Shelly gave her a genuine, almost whimsical smile. "Wow, that's great. Are you going to be doing this yourself soon?" She gestured at the engagement party happening around them.

Ziva shook her head firmly. "No."

Shelly nodded knowingly, and gestured in the direction of Frank, who was talking to the other couple on their table. "We've been together ten years. Never felt the need. Everyone's cool with it. Except his mom. She hates my sinful guts."

Ziva was uncomfortable with the level of information Shelly was sharing, but tried to be polite. "Well, it only matters what Frank thinks, yes?"

"Especially since his mom's a stupid bitch," Shelly scowled, and then took a breath and smiled again. "He's a catch, Ziva."

Ziva was still reeling a little from Shelly's blunt assessment of Frank's mother, and so didn't follow what she was saying. "Excuse me?"

"He's a catch," Shelly repeated. "Tony."

Ziva frowned and tried to recall the meaning of the saying, but it escaped her. "English is not my first language," she began, and Shelly nodded.

"Right. I just mean he seems to tick all the boxes. Handsome, funny, smart, successful, seems pretty stable." She leaned in with a smile that screamed 'girl talk'. "I'd be wanting to get a ring on his finger pretty fast, but it's good that you're so confident together."

Ziva wasn't sure if she was being insulted, warned or praised. She plastered on a smile and focused on the first part of Shelly's comment. "He is very special, yes."

"Thanks," Tony said as he returned to the table with a drink in each hand. He hadn't actually heard anything that came before Ziva's statement, and didn't have a clue who she was referring to. But he figured he'd be able to draw a smile out of her anyway.

Ziva's head snapped up to look at him, but after a moment of panic over being busted she decided that he was clueless. She smiled for him, and then stared at Shelly until the woman slid back onto her own seat. Tony took her place and put a mojito Ziva hadn't asked for but definitely wanted in front of her.

"Thank you," she said.

He winked and then gestured at the drink. "I'm gonna want half of that."

She rolled her eyes. "Of course."

Tony glanced at Shelly, and then angled his body away from her, cutting her out of the conversation. "What were you and your BFF talking about?"

Ziva felt her cheeks warm again. She reached for the mojito. "Nothing," she said, trying to hold back her smile by sucking on her straw. "She said she thought you were a catch."

His eyes crinkled with amusement. "I am," he agreed, full of self-deprecation. "No doubt, you agreed with her."

Ziva put her drink down. "No, I told her English was not my first language and that I did not understand what she was saying."

Tony smirked but held her gaze. Her head fell to the side as she gave him a soft smile under warm eyes, and his smile grew as his eyes momentarily flicked to her mouth. If they were in an ordinary situation with each other, behind closed doors, this would be where he'd lean in to kiss her. Tonight, he settled for sliding his hand onto her bare knee under the table and stroking her skin a few times with his thumb. The warmth in her eyes seemed to turn a little hotter, and he cleared his suddenly tight throat.

"So, Ducky's hitting on Jimmy's Aunt Molly," he said, distracting himself before he couldn't fight the urge to slide his hand higher. "And I think he's in with a pretty good chance."

Ziva swiveled her head to look over to where Ducky was in deep, animated conversation with a woman with ash blonde hair and a huge sapphire necklace. "It would be nice if he found someone."

Tony dipped his head in agreement. "Everybody needs somebody to love."

She turned back to look at him with suspicious eyes. "You are quoting _The Blues Brothers_ at me."

He shrugged. "I haven't said an original thing to you in five years."

Ziva smiled. As she gazed back towards Ducky she responded to his more romantic statement. "Yes, they do."

Tony watched her profile as she watched Ducky. "Did you know that over 90 per cent of birds are monogamous?"

Ziva's head swung back to him, and she looked at him with surprised curiosity. "Is that because they basically look the same anyway, so there's no thrill in cheating?"

Tony caught his chuckle. "They all basically look the same?" he repeated. "That's very speciesist of you, Ziva."

She shrugged. "Why is that?"

Tony didn't have a clue, so he made it up. "Something about instinctively knowing that their genes will make superior baby birds," he replied convincingly. "And because birds without mates are more easily picked off by predators. They live longer without the stress of singledom." He thought that might've been taking it too far, but Ziva just nodded thoughtfully.

"Why are you such a fountain of knowledge lately?" she asked.

He recalled telling her earlier in the week about cavemen inventing marriage. "I accidentally got an e-newsletter subscription to Encyclopaedia Britannica," he cracked. "I thought I was signing up for porn."

Ziva snorted, making him smile. She jerked her chin towards Ducky. "Can you imagine what Ducky's children would have been like?"

Tony had visions of golden-haired boys wearing bow ties to elementary school and correcting their teachers' lessons. "There's still time." Ziva looked at him, aghast, and he defended his position with more science. "What? There is! Men can father children into their 90s."

"Just because they can, doesn't mean they _should_, Tony," Ziva replied, shaking her head.

Tony agreed, but he argued for the fun of it. "But what if Ducky falls head over heels for Aunt Molly? And he wants to express that through the beautiful miracle of creating life? Would you want to deny him the profound joy of children because he's on the other side of 70?"

Ziva narrowed her eyes at him, and touched her tongue to her lip as she thought about how to respond. Then, she leaned in and tapped her finger to the table as she made her point. "First of all, you hate children, and they hate you."

"That's not entirely true." Ziva sent him a challenging look, and he amended his response. "Okay, that's 95 per cent true. But it's not _entirely_ true."

Ziva tapped out another argument on the table. "Second, even if Aunt Molly would also want to be involved in the beautiful miracle of creating life? Tony, the woman is in her 60s. I sincerely doubt that she would be able to be involved."

Tony picked up his drink, and was already wincing at the rise he knew he'd get out of her with his next comment. "Yeah, you ladies really are inferior when it comes to—" He broke off to yelp as Ziva dug a finger into his ribs.

"So, what about mammals?" Ziva asked casually, as if she hadn't just bruised him.

"Huh?" he asked, rubbing his side.

"Well, if most birds are monogamous, what about mammals?"

"Oh." He tried to stretch his memory back to college. "I think they mostly screw around indiscriminately. Not all, but the vast majority."

"Even gorillas?" she asked. "They are the closest to humans, yes?"

"I don't know about gorillas," he said, shaking his head. "Chimpanzees, though? Total sluts." Ziva snorted and returned his grin. "Didn't you learn all this stuff in college?"

Ziva's eyes flicked over his shoulder for a moment and gently swung her foot into his leg. "No. It was not covered in my ninja studies."

He broke into a smile, and wondered if Shelly was still sitting behind him. "That's a shame. The sex lives of animals was a very interesting subject."

"I am surprised you studied it if you were a phys ed major," she said, lifting her hair over her shoulder.

"It was only for a semester," he told her. "I can't remember why I did it. Probably to impress a girl."

Ziva shook her head, but was smirking when she told him, "You were such a chimpanzee."

He took about as much offense to that as she'd meant to cause. "I was 19," he started to point out, but broke off when two kids ran right past them, squealing and giggling. Tony and Ziva both winced at the ear-splitting noise, and watched one of Breena's friends chase after the kids with a scowl.

"Only 95 per cent?" Ziva questioned, going back to his dislike of children.

Tony shrugged, and then averted his gaze to make what felt like a terrifyingly important admission seem casual. "I'm told that it's different when they're yours." He felt her eyes on him, but if felt like forever before she responded.

"Yes," she said thickly. "I have heard that too."

He swallowed and looked at her out of the corner of his eye. He caught her doing the exact same thing, and they both broke into amused, self-aware smiles and looked away again. This was one conversation they definitely weren't ready for.

**

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Sorry to leave it there. This chapter and the next were originally one chapter, but the word count came in close to 11,000 words, and that seemed…excessive. More of the engagement party to come in the next few days.**


	4. Part 4: The Engagement Party, Part 2

**A/N: This follows straight on from the previous chapter.  
Once again, thanks for your amazing reviews and for continuing to follow this story. And thanks to SnoopMaryMar.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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**Part 4: The Engagement Party – part 2**

After dessert, Abby found herself on the edge of a conversation between one of Jimmy's cousins and Breena's best friend. Their conversation about a music festival they'd all been to had somehow degenerated into a fevered discussion about bridesmaids dresses, and Abby was now desperately looking for an escape hatch. She found it when her eyes swept over to their table and saw Tony sitting by himself. Her friend didn't seem at all lonely; on the contrary, he looked content with a small, charmed smile on his face. He was currently gazing across the room at Ziva, and Abby wasn't sure that he was even aware that he was alone. Part of her wanted to leave him to his own devices, but a much, much bigger part of her decided that it was well past time that the two of them had a heart-to-heart.

She excused herself from the debate about satin and chiffon, and then headed Tony's way. He looked up when she got within ten feet, and she danced the rest of the way over, drawing a big smile out of him. She dropped herself into Ziva's chair and crossed her legs towards him.

"Did you know that Jimmy's family originally came across on the Mayflower?"

Tony pursed his lips. "I was not aware of that."

"And apparently his great grandfather was an aide for President Roosevelt."

Tony raised an eyebrow. "My uncle was the president of a Fortune 500 company until he had a total nervous breakdown."

Abby tried to think of a noteworthy relative in her family. "My cousin Eddie was a backup dancer in Madonna's _Vogue_ video clip."

"Cool."

He was staring again, and Abby followed his gaze to where Ziva was talking with Ducky and an older woman in a sparkly gold jacket. She swung back to look at him and cocked her head to the side as she considered how to go about this.

"Anthony," she began.

He glanced at her with a smirk. "Abigail."

"I've been meaning to come and talk to you for a while."

"But you've been too intimidated by my good looks to approach me?"

Abby's eyes rolled over an affectionate smile. "Um, sure."

"You don't need to roll your eyes _quite_ so hard at that," he suggested.

Abby gently poked his thigh. "We're tight, right?"

This time, he turned his head all the way to look at her. "You and me?" He reached along the back of her chair to tug the ends of her hair, and gave her a wink. "Thick as thieves, baby."

"Then I think it's time that you and I had the talk."

His lips quirked. "If this is about how birds don't actually have sex with bees, I worked that out _at least_ 18 months ago."

Abby smiled, but leaned closer and poked her finger into his thigh. "Okay, I want to talk to Serious Tony for a while. Can you send him out for me?"

"Yeah, but he's only free for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes is all I need."

Tony feigned shock. "Abby!"

"Serious Tony, please," she begged, tugging the sleeve of his jacket.

Tony put down his drink and focused his attention on her. "Okay. What's up?"

She looked at him with fond frustration. "I'm getting sick of waiting for you and Ziva to just sort it out already." She wasn't exactly sure what his reaction would be to such a straightforward statement, but she certainly wasn't expecting the self-aware smile.

"_You're_ getting sick of it?" he threw back.

"I'll admit that my level of frustration probably isn't as high as yours."

"I'd say definitely."

She tilted her head and eyed him, wondering if he was really going to be so honest about this with her. "So…you don't want to go into denial mode at all?"

He lifted an eyebrow. "Would you like me to?"

"No."

"Then, no." He glanced at Ziva, and then down at his hands as he took a deep breath. He didn't know why he suddenly had the urge to tell Abby about it. Maybe it was something as ridiculous as hoping that by saying it aloud, everything would turn out okay. Maybe he was just looking for some independent assurance. Or maybe he'd just had too much to drink and was in a confessional mood. "I don't know what it looks like from the outside. Maybe we're doing a much better job of keeping up appearances than I thought. But things are…moving. Generally in a forward direction," he said, gesturing with his hand.

Honestly, Abby was surprised. Not because it seemed as though they were both plainly acknowledging what was there, but because they were actively doing something about it. And talking to each other. Abby had sometimes doubted that Tony and Ziva would _ever_ be able to do that.

"Wow. That's…great," she said, and then frowned as she tried to get her head around it. "Are you guys actually together?"

Tony shook his head. "No. Sort of. Yes, in a way. But also no."

Abby stared at him for a moment, and then lifted her eyes to the ceiling for a clue as to what to say next. "Um, not sure I follow."

Tony shifted in his seat, turning more towards her, and leaned closer. "Well, we haven't flat out said we're doing this, but…I think we are. We had a weird conversation this week about love and marriage, and I think we kind of agreed that we wouldn't get married."

Abby's eyes widened with distress. "What?"

Tony shook his head reassuringly. "No, I mean we agreed things would work better if we were together in a more de facto way."

"Oh!" Abby caught on, before the subtext hit her. "So, wait. You guys agreed that you were committing to each other?"

Tony made a face. "Yeah, but no. We were actually talking about Palmer at the time. And then McGee. And Gibbs and Jenny. Come to think of it, we were talking about everyone _but_ us." He shook his head. "That's not important. We were really talking about us."

They watched each other quietly, and when Tony slipped into a happy, indulgent smile, Abby returned it.

"Well I guess I'm not needed here, then," she said.

"How's that?"

Abby gestured at in the vague direction of where she'd been. "I was over there and saw you watching Ziva all puppy-eyed, so I came over to tell you to just go do it already. But you've already done it."

"Done what?"

Abby smiled, on the verge of mega excitement. "Professed your undying love."

His smile widened momentarily at her idealism before he shook his head. "We haven't done that."

The look of surprise that came over her face was almost cartoonish. "Why not? You love her, right?"

Tony sighed, and didn't directly answer her question. "Here's the thing, Abs," he said seriously. "Right now, it doesn't matter if I love her. She is not an American citizen. She is here on a temporary work visa. And if Uncle Sam decides that he wants her to hand back the keys and find someplace else to live, she's going to have to pack her weapons cache and go, regardless of any feelings I might have."

Abby shook her head firmly. "Tony, that's not going to happen."

"It might," he countered, and then rubbed his chin. "I don't know. I think we're just trying to keep some of those bigger barriers in place until there's some certainty in the future."

Abby slumped back in her chair. She'd never even considered that they'd been holding out all this time because of that. She'd thought it was because of Gibbs, or because they were both kind of adorably emotionally oblivious and scared. She'd never thought there were practicalities to it.

"So, what _will_ you do if her citizenship is denied?" Abby asked gently.

Tony's eyes wandered over to his partner again, and his mouth lifted in a bittersweet smile. "I've got some back up plans. B, C, D; one of them is bound to work."

Abby bit her lip. "Who do we know at the INS?"

Tony shot her a secretive grin. "That'd be Plan C."

"If you need help," she began, and left the rest unsaid.

Tony nodded. "You and McGee are on my speed dial."

"What are you going to do about Gibbs?"

"For Plan C?"

"No, assuming Plan A comes together."

_Rules schmules_, he thought. "Why does it have to be about him?"

"I don't think it does," Abby said. "But he has these rules that you're a bit of a stickler for."

He looked at her pointedly. "And you're not?"

"Not _that_ one," Abby argued. "I'm anti-that one."

"Me too. Ziva and I are making t-shirts. You want one?"

As Abby grinned, a question Tony had been meaning to ask her for a while popped into his head. He had mixed feelings about actually bringing it up, though. He knew she'd be nothing but honest with him—it was one of the reasons he loved her—but that was kind of why he'd avoided asking her for so long. He wasn't entirely sure that he _wanted_ her honest opinion. He was definitely looking for assurance from her now, but something told him she wouldn't give it freely.

But maybe that was a good thing. He'd been living this relationship in his head for five years and really hadn't brought it up with anyone. Although Abby was prone to be excitable, he also knew she had it in her to be calm, rational and considered. That was exactly what he needed now, and he decided to take a chance.

"My turn to ask you something," he said, and then paused while he found his backbone. "What do you think of Ziva and me? You know, as a unit."

Abby held his gaze, weighing up how honest he really wanted her to be. He gave her a little nod, providing permission to put all her cards on the table, and she trusted he knew what he was getting into.

"I love Ziva," she began. But instead of filling Tony with warm and fuzzies, the statement made him wince. Anything she had to say that began with a qualifier like that was not going to be completely complimentary.

"I know," he offered carefully.

Abby looked at the table as she tried to phrase her answer. "I love her like family, but there is a part of me that will always be wary of her because I think she is the only thing that could take you away from us."

As far as opening statements went, it was pretty heavy. He didn't say anything, but cocked his head to the side as he tried to understand what she was saying.

"I don't mean take you away as in kill you or whatever," she clarified. "I mean that I think you would go to the ends of the earth for her, no matter what the price. That's not necessarily a bad thing, and I get the whole bonds of partnership deal. But I guess I'm scared of what you would do for her." She tilted her head to the side and looked at him fondly. "I'm worried about the positions you would put yourself in for her, Tony. Because she's not an ordinary woman. And the things you might have to do for her aren't your typical give up your motorbike, move to another city things. With Ziva, we're talking…" She trailed off and her eyes widened as she considered the possibilities before she shook her head. "I don't even _know_ what we're talking."

Honestly, Tony only had a slightly better idea than Abby. But he was prepared to accept the risk, no hesitation. And he was quick to defend her. "Would it make you feel better to know that she'd do crazy things for me too?"

"Not really," she admitted. "I love her. I just don't love her as much as I love you." She winced at her own words. "God, I'm going to hell for this."

But Tony understood better than she thought. "You still kind of think of her as an outsider."

Abby shook her head. "No, she's one of us. I love her like a sister. But it's just not the same as…"

"Kate."

"Yeah," she said softly. Ziva had never felt that way, Abby thought. There was just something different about their relationship.

"I don't think she's ever tried to take that place," Tony defended gently.

"No, I know," Abby said quickly, and tried to think of how to explain how she felt. "It's almost like since day one, she's been my brother's girlfriend, you know? She's always been _yours_, so it's been hard to think of her as something of mine. Does that make sense?"

Tony hadn't thought of it that way before. Okay, for a long time now he'd thought of her as _his_ Ziva, _his _partner. But he hadn't known that everyone else thought of her like that too. Did McGee? Did Gibbs?

Did Ziva?

"Yeah," he answered Abby. "I guess."

Abby hugged his arm. "To be clear, and to say it one more time, I love her. And I love you like a litter of Labrador puppies, wrapped in sunshine and sprinkled with fairy dust." She paused while Tony laughed, and then favored him with a big smile. "And I love the guy you were before we met Ziva. I've loved you from…" She paused, and took stock. "I was going to say from the moment I met you, but that's not true at all. I thought you were an idiot when I met you."

Tony smirked. "Wow, you were really good at hiding that," he said sarcastically. If he recalled correctly, Abby had turned to Gibbs after meeting him to declare, _No. We're not keeping him._

Abby continued as if he hadn't spoken. "But this guy you are now? He's, like, the best guy I know. And Ziva brought that out in you. I think you always wanted to be this guy but you didn't have a good enough reason to try to be him before. Ziva was a good enough reason."

She paused, giving Tony's head just enough time to stop spinning before launching in again.

"And I think _you_ were the thing that gave Ziva a good enough reason to start thinking of herself as something other than a soldier and start treating her life as something other than a war." She gave him a proud smile. "You turned her into beautiful, free, human Ziva. You make each other better. So what do I think of you as a unit?" She nodded to herself, confirming her thoughts before she voiced them. "Kick ass."

For a few moments, Tony could only stare at her while he played her assessment over and over in his head. _You make each other better_. It was one of those rare moments when you realized that the romantic thoughts you had in your head for what you hoped would come true were shared by someone who didn't dream about them every day. For a moment, he felt light-headed, and wondered if he was actually awake. But then Abby gave his arm a gentle punch—bringing him back to earth—and he let himself believe that someone who wasn't Tony or Ziva thought that Tony and Ziva was a good idea. It was an independent assessment; perhaps he should get it in writing and keep it on file like a warranty card.

"Thank you," he finally said, truly meaning it.

"Honestly, I kind of already think of you guys as a unit," Abby went on. "I think the two of you do as well. So I don't really know if anything will change, you know? I mean, it will, because it'll all be out in the open. But you already know how to handle each other. You already know each other's best and worst. You know the raw nerves and how to cheer each other up. All that crap that you usually have to go through when you first meet someone and hook up? You guys did that years ago."

Tony could think of plenty of things he and Ziva had yet to go through, but couldn't bring himself to argue with Abby's optimism. "Sure."

Abby's smile gave way to a look tinged with sympathy, and Tony felt the weight of what was coming before she opened her mouth. "Does she know about Jill?"

Tony shook his head, and managed not to gasp at the sound of that name spoken aloud. He swallowed hard and tried not to indulge in the anxiety he suddenly felt tugging at his heart at that long-censored chapter of his life being brought up. "No. Not because I don't want to tell her. It just hasn't come up. It's not in my head most days, you know?"

"Yeah. That's good," she offered.

For a moment, Tony's mind wandered to sweet blue eyes and soft dark hair before he wrestled them back to the present. "What's the bet she says it explains everything?" He turned a smile on Abby, but Abby wasn't having any of it.

"Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Act like you're damaged goods."

The hit landed too close to the bone, and Tony went on the defensive. "That's not what I'm doing."

"It totally is," Abby argued, but the blow was softened when she cast her eyes out over the crowd. "You told me you'd gotten past it, and I believed you."

"I have," he tried to assure her. "Really. You're aware of my reputation for using humor as a defense, right?"

"Special Agent DiNozzo does that," Abby pointed out. "But my friend Tony doesn't. Not about big ticket, life-altering stuff like this."

Tony took a deep breath and held back the joke on the tip of his tongue that would deflect this uncomfortable conversation elsewhere. "Okay. How do you think she's going to take it?"

The hint of a knowing smirk crossed Abby's face. "I think she might be tempted to do some spy work."

Tony understood her meaning, and openly winced. "No, I don't think she would," he countered, but only because he hoped to make himself believe it.

"I know I was," Abby muttered.

Tony smiled and looked down, overcome for a moment by a wave of affection for his protective friend. He slid his arm around her shoulders and kissed the side of her head. "Yeah, I love you, too."

When he removed his arm, Abby hooked hers into it, and rested her head against the side of his shoulder. "I don't think it's going to change her opinion of you, if that's what you're worried about."

Tony shook his head as if waving the suggestion away, but said nothing. That was _exactly_ what he was worried about. The Jill part of his life was over and he was done dealing with the fallout. But there was always going to be a piece of him that wouldn't heal. He just hoped Ziva wouldn't find the scar too ugly.

Abby poked his thigh. "Stop it," she admonished.

"I'm stopped." He was done with this. "You look great."

His lack of subtlety made Abby's eyes roll to the heavens, but she respected his need to take a breather from the conversation. "Thanks. I hate heels."

"You wear five-inch platforms every day," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but they don't have a heel, Tony," she explained. "Heels are unnatural."

"Pretty hot, though." He threw a look at the gold things on Ziva's feet that made her leg muscles do that thing he loved.

"Modern-day torture devices," she grumbled. "Pain for beauty's sake."

Tony didn't bother commenting on the reasoning behind her decision to adorn her body with tattoos. His thoughts had already returned to their previous conversation, and he found himself returning for more punishment.

"I don't suppose you want to tell Gibbs?"

"About my hatred of heels?" Abby deliberately misunderstood. "I don't think he'll find that news as interesting—"

"Is he going to stroke out, do you think?" he cut in. She was only filling time while she waited for him to ask, anyway.

Abby shook her head against him. "I think he's been expecting it for a little while. And he hasn't exactly sent you kids to opposite corners of the classroom."

Tony thought about his discussion with Ziva about the origins of the hated number 12. "We think the rule's more of a guideline."

Abby smiled, but didn't tease him about his unit-based language. "I've never paid much attention to it."

"You've also never dated co-workers."

"I dated McGee."

"Yeah, but you never worked side-by-side all day, every day." He paused. "You don't have co-workers. You have colleagues. Except the Chipper. He was a co-worker." He stopped and looked down at her with a frown. "And if you dated him, you should tell me now."

"We didn't date," Abby said, and then waited a beat. "It was straight sex. Nothing kinky."

Tony could laugh only because he knew it was ridiculous. "Yeah? What you ended up doing to him looked pretty kinky."

Abby recalled the sight of her would-be killer and the kid who'd tried to frame Tony for murder squirming on the lab floor, bound, gagged and covered in Caf-Pow. Generally, Abby was a pacifist. But she didn't feel a smidgen of guilt over what she'd done to him.

"That was for both of us."

"Right on," Tony said, and held his palm out. Abby slapped it with hers.

"So you really don't think McGee is my co-worker?" she asked.

"There's a measure of distance there that makes the rule-slash-guideline less of an issue." He expected a quick reply, but when none was forthcoming, he decided to tease her to see if Ziva's theory was right. "Why? You still thinking about taking a bite of Probie Pie?"

"No," Abby said firmly. "That's over. Well over. I love him, but that dog won't hunt."

Tony nodded, and then gently reversed their patient/therapist roles. "I'm not sure he's clear on that, Abs."

She sighed so heavily that she should have passed out. "I know." She tensed. "Did he say something to you?"

"No. He said something to Ziva but I don't know what, exactly."

Abby sat up straight to look him in the eye, and he empathized with the expression of confusion on her face. "Why are McGee and Ziva talking about McGee and me?"

"I have no idea," Tony said, letting his tone express his own surprise.

"Since when are they BFFs?"

"I don't know. Ziva said she thinks he talks to her because he can't talk to the rest of us."

"Well, that's ridicu—" she started with outrage before slumping again. "Oh, yeah, she might have a point there. I mean, he'd love to talk to you, but he probably can't find the line between big brother and senior field agent."

Tony was about to get on his 'preparing probie for the future' high horse, but thought of a better argument. "I think he doesn't want to talk to me about you because he knows I'll break his arms if he screws up."

Abby considered that. "Probably."

He eyed her before gently asking, "Have you thought about how to make it clear?"

She gave him a look laced with guilt. "I don't know how to do it without breaking his little Timmy heart."

"You can't just be straight with him?"

Abby skewered him with a scowl. "Because you know all about being straight with people about your feelings."

He honestly couldn't argue with that. "Okay. Good point, well made."

"I don't know why I have to suddenly address it," Abby told him, obviously trying to convince herself of it. "I know he still carries a torch, but the flame hasn't gotten any bigger. It's just been...glowing embers with the occasional flare up."

Tony's eyebrow rose at her metaphor, but he tried to keep it going. "Well, all it takes is a breath of wind to...feed the fire of desire." It was a lame attempt, so he gave up. "Can we stop talking in flame metaphor? I've had too much to drink for that."

"Sure. Maybe I should introduce him to someone," she suggested. "Or you. You could introduce him to someone."

"I don't really have girls as friends," he pointed out. "I have you and I have Ziva, and you're both excluded from the process by default."

"What about Celeste?" she asked, referring to one of his oldest friends from college.

"She's married to my buddy Josh," he reminded her.

Abby deflated. "Oh. Right."

"Maybe you could introduce _yourself_ to someone."

"Hmm. Who do you know?"

"For you?" He shook his head firmly. "No one. I wouldn't let any of my friends within a hundred yards of you. Not even to pump your gas."

"Ooh," she cooed, turning his innocent statement into a double entendre.

Tony closed his eyes and tiredly shook his head. "That wasn't a euphemism. Although I also wouldn't want them to pump your gas." He frowned. "I'm not sure that even makes sense."

"What about that guy over there in the blue pinstripe?" Abby suggested, gesturing with her chin.

Tony grimaced. "I am _not_ discussing guys with you, Abs," he told her, before glancing at the guy in question. "But I don't think he's your type."

Abby shrugged, already over it. "It might be bad form to hit on him right in McGee's face, too."

"Yeah, I'd advise against it."

* * *

Across the room, Ziva's eyes drifted from the people she was talking to over to their table. She'd felt Tony's eyes on her for a while, and it was no surprise to find him looking at her now. He gave her a soft smile that make her belly tingle and her skin prickle, and Ziva glanced at Abby to see how closely they were being watched. Abby was staring at her with a knowing expression that made Ziva wonder what the hell they'd been talking about. She excused herself from the conversation and then headed over to join them.

She dropped into the seat on the other side of Tony. "My feet hurt," she told them.

Abby's expression was all sympathy. "I know."

"But you look great," Tony pointed out.

Ziva tried to wriggle her toes inside her shoes, and winced at the intense burning she felt. "I am never wearing these shoes again."

"Ziva, don't make sweeping comments like that," Tony lectured, like a disappointed parent.

Ziva raised her eyes from her throbbing feet to fix him with a steady look. "Tony, you need to drop this strange interest you have in my shoes."

Abby chuckled as Tony recalled their conversation from just a few days ago in the Navy Yard garden about her stilettos. He nodded quickly. "Yes, I agree."

"What are you two deep in discussion about?" she asked.

"Just profiling the happy couple," Tony lied easily. "I'm not sure yet, but I think Breena might be a sociopath."

"_What?_" Ziva and Abby yelped.

"She's so happy!" Tony argued, as if it all made perfect sense. "And smiley and…bouncy. There's something going on there, I'm telling you." He wagged a wise finger. "I'm very good at profiling—" He cut himself off when Ziva grabbed his finger in her fist and gave him a warning look.

"Don't you dare say that to Jimmy. Not even in jest."

Tony shook his head, promising he wouldn't, as Abby jumped in with her two cents.

"I think she's sweet. Not really my kind of person, but sweet."

Ziva let go of Tony's finger and replied to Abby. "I cannot imagine myself having an easy conversation with her about anything—ever—but I do not think she is anyone to worry about."

Tony rolled his eyes dramatically. "Fine. But when she hacks him apart and tosses his pink bits into the garbage disposal, I'm going to say I told you so."

Ziva's eyes turned sympathetic as she recalled a case from months ago in which that exact scene had played out. "That case still bothers you, yes?"

He cut a look to her. "It haunts my nightmares," he told her seriously.

Ziva rubbed his thigh supportively.

"Be that as it may," Abby said, "and I don't blame you for being squeamish, it's not appropriate engagement party discussion."

Ziva supposed she was right. She looked over to where Jimmy stood by Breena's side and beamed down at her as she charmed his grandmother. "He looks happy."

"Yeah," Tony softly agreed.

She turned back to Tony with a vaguely guilty expression. "We should stop being so cynical."

"I know," he said, and then added, "I give it a year."

Ziva sighed at his predictability as Abby gave him a shot in the arm.

Tony chuckled. "I meant a year until they have gorgeous babies."

He hadn't meant anything of the sort and his friends knew it. But now Abby's head was full of soft pink skin and the smell of talcum powder.

"Oh my God! Do you think they will?" she asked with wide eyes. "That would be so cool! Our first baby!"

Tony and Ziva gave her twin looks that read _Calm down, freak!_

"You know they probably won't ask _you_ to have the baby, right?" Tony checked, as Ziva leant across him to grab her drink that had been sitting in front of Abby. He rested his hand momentarily in the centre of her back, and it took him until she had straightened again and was sipping her drink to realize that her back under that slinky satin dress had been completely smooth.

"Yeah, but it'll be a Team Gibbs baby, right?" Abby was saying. She looked over to Jimmy and smiled on a sigh. "Little Jimmy Palmer. Our first wedding, our first baby."

While Abby talked family values, Tony was trying to surreptitiously look into Ziva's dress to confirm his suspicions that she wasn't wearing a bra. How had he missed that? They'd been here for four freaking hours and his eyes had made dozens of sweeps of her body. How had he missed the hotness?

"I wonder why Ducky never married," he heard Ziva say, but Tony had essentially tagged out of the conversation. He was focused on coming up with a ruse to get her into a halfway secluded spot so he could run his hands all over that silk and find out if he was right.

For the next few minutes, Tony conjured up memories of the texture of her skin on her belly, her thighs, the back of her neck. He thought of the taste of her lips, and her welcome weight on top of him. He replayed the sound of her moans when he kissed her, and how quickly her skin heated under his hands.

He swallowed hard with a dry mouth, and fought the urge to just lean over and start kissing her neck. He'd have to wait until they were home before he could start indulging in his desires, presuming she was interested in that tonight. If she wasn't, who knew how long he'd have to wait for an opportunity to pull her close and slide his hands under her clothes?

The thoughts suddenly fell out of his head when Abby smacked the table and pushed her chair back, making Tony jump.

"Oh my God! Is Ducky about to play that piano?"

They looked through the crowd of people to the Baby Grand that the elderly M.E. was sitting in front of while flexing his fingers.

"Looks like it," Ziva said. "I did not know that Ducky played the piano."

"I've got to see this," Abby said excitably, and then stood up and rushed away.

Tony watched her go with the frown of someone who was always wondering what went on inside her head. He turned to bring it up with Ziva, but the question died on his lips at the sultry look she was giving him.

Tony swallowed. "What?"

"You have gone awfully quiet," she said.

Tony tried to keep a straight face that would hide his internal musings about the soft skin of her stomach, but his guilty grin broke through. "I'm just thinking," he said casually. "You know, deep thoughts."

Ziva eyed him, clearly not buying it. "About what?"

"Global warming," Tony replied. "The melting polar ice caps. All those poor little polar bears that are running out of places to live and fish to eat. Stuff like that."

Ziva stared back at him with pursed lips and narrowed eyes. The examination made him smile as much as he squirmed.

"Then why are you blushing?" she asked.

Tony casually reached for his water glass. "Global warming," he said again, not managing to keep a straight face but continuing the lie anyway. "It's getting really hot in here. I'm flushing, not blushing."

She looked like she was about to laugh, but then pulled her gaze from him and looked across the room as Ducky began to play. Abby was sitting beside him on the stool and there was a small crowd around him, watching the show.

"I never gave you those piano lessons," she said thoughtfully.

He didn't respond. He just watched her profile with heavy eyes until she turned back to meet his gaze. Instead of smiling away discomfort at being caught staring, he kept watching her. Ziva's eyes fell to his mouth for just a moment before she leaned closer to him.

"You have gone quiet again," she said softly.

His eyes slowly fell to wander over her mouth and neck, and then down to her dress and thighs. "You look beautiful," he told her, his tone matching hers.

The corner of her mouth turned up. "Thank you. I like your suit."

He barely smirked. "I know. I look pretty good in it."

Her smile grew before she quickly reined it in. She reached out to slide the collar of his shirt back under his jacket, letting her knuckles brush his jaw, and aimed a wanting gaze at the hollow of his throat.

Tony watched her wet her pink lips, and swore the temperature in the room went up ten degrees. Her hand ran down the front of his jacket, and she briefly tugged on the hem before pulling her hand back to her own lap.

"Were you planning on hanging around much longer?" she asked.

Tony looked around the room. It seemed that maybe a quarter of the guests had already left, so they could probably get away with going whenever they wanted and not seem rude. It _would_ be embarrassing to leave before Ducky, though.

"Soon."

Ziva nodded slowly. "Share a cab?"

The subtle smirk on her lips told him she was just trying to keep up appearances. He didn't doubt that he'd be walking through her door tonight.

"Of course," he said. "I wouldn't want you to get a cab on your own at this time of night. Who knows what might happen to you."

Ziva nodded along. "Exactly. I might be arrested for beating up a cab driver."

He smiled. "Ten minutes?" he suggested.

Ziva nodded, and then threw back the rest of her drink. "Let's say goodnight to the happy couple."

They got up from the table, and when Ziva stooped to pick up her handbag from under the table, the sleeve of her dress slid off her right shoulder. Beautiful golden skin, unadorned by lace, elastic or satin, was exposed to Tony's hungry gaze, and he felt a quickening of his heartbeat and a tightening of his pants.

The minx was going commando after all.

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Jill? Who's Jill? And why hasn't Tony told Ziva about her? Stick with me. It will all be explained. I'm just throwing in some layers…**


	5. Part 5: The Agreement

**A/N: Thanks for all your reviews on the last chapter. I'm getting slack with replying again, and I apologize for that. But I appreciate you following this.  
WARNING: This chapter is definitely M-rated. If you're not comfortable with that, skip it. I'll provide a recap in the author notes of the next chapter.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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**Part 5: The Agreement**

Tony's hand was heavy in the small of Ziva's back as they stepped out of the elevator in her apartment building. They'd shared the 15-second ride with one of Ziva's neighbors, and so instead of getting things started in the elevator, Tony had passed the time running his hand up and down Ziva's silk-clad spine. He was positive now that she wasn't wearing a bra, and although common sense told him that she was most likely wearing underwear in a dress that short, he was still getting dizzy with the anticipation of running his hands up under the hem and finding out for sure.

Ziva's neighbor was going in the same direction as them, so Tony attempted small talk to keep his mind on appropriate public behavior. "I can't believe we left before McGee."

Ziva turned to face him, and started walking backwards down the hall with a playful smile on her face. "Do you want to go back?" she asked. "I would not want you to lose your hard-earned frat boy reputation."

Tony looked her up and down, and reached out to grab her hand to steady her when she tripped. "No, I think it was time to retire for the evening."

Ziva gripped his hand and let him walk into her. She pulled his arm around behind her back and tilted her face up to his. "Will you be wanting a nightcap?"

Tony chuckled. "Do you even know what that is?"

She shook her head. "Not really. But this seems to be the point in your movies where it is offered."

"I've had enough to drink," he said, and then steered her so that her back was against her apartment door. "You're home."

Ziva glanced over her shoulder, and then watched her neighbor pass behind Tony on her way to her own apartment. "Thank you for walking me to my door," she told him.

"Well, I'm a gentleman," he said, as the neighbor reached her door and fiddled with her keys.

Ziva searched her clutch for her own keys, and Tony wasn't surprised to see that she'd managed to jam a small pistol in there with her driver's license and lipstick. He glanced down the hall as her neighbor closed her apartment door behind her, and then he immediately leaned in to kiss those glossy pink lips he'd been dying to touch all night.

Ziva made a noise somewhere between a cry and a moan in the back of her throat. Her fist curled around his shirt and she pushed herself against him. Her lips were so warm, so soft, so ridiculously inviting against his, and he couldn't resist flicking them with his tongue. She parted her lips as he rested a heavy hand on her cheek, pulling her closer and moving her where he wanted her. He'd worked out long ago that she liked it when he controlled the kiss like that, so he wasn't surprised when she moaned in approval and arched her back, pressing herself harder against him.

Tony could feel himself nearing his tipping point, and decided that it was a good idea to move this behind closed doors sooner rather than later. His hand left her hip to run down her arm to her hand, and he took her keys from her. He broke the kiss to search the bundle of keys for the right one, and Ziva took the opportunity to press her lips into the hollow of his throat and swirl her tongue against his skin. Tony groaned as his skin erupted in gooseflesh, and when he found the right key, he shoved it so violently into the lock that it should have snapped.

Ziva fell backwards as the door swung open with her weight, but her fists curled around Tony's shirt kept her from falling. She found her footing and dragged him back into her apartment with her, and Tony managed to kick the door shut behind them.

In the privacy of her apartment, Tony ran his hands from her hips up to her shoulders, lifting her hem a few inches before dropping it again. "I love this dress," he told her.

That much had been obvious from the first moment he laid eyes on her that night, and he'd already told her as much. But Ziva appreciated the compliment anyway. "Thank you."

She rested her weight against him as she wriggled her shoes off her feet, and she immediately dropped four inches. She pressed her face into his chest as she moaned with the release of pressure around her feet. When she flexed her toes, it was almost as good as having Tony's mouth on her neck. He didn't give her long to enjoy the feeling, though, before he started dragging her with him as he walked backwards through her living room. He'd been intending to get to her bedroom pretty quickly, but the map he had in his head of her apartment was on the fritz, and he ended up backing straight into a wall. He figured that was as good a place as any to take a break and kiss her again.

The kiss heated up quickly as hands roamed and tongues warred. After so long spent waiting for this, the act of touching one another was still intoxicatingly new and exciting and it was far too easy to get lost in it. Although they'd quickly learned what the other liked, they both still had enough tricks up their sleeves to surprise and arouse. Ziva was benefiting from the decades of experience under Tony's belt (as it were) as he stroked against her tongue in a way she hadn't encountered before but prayed she would get to learn by heart.

But while Ziva was losing herself in the kiss, Tony was thinking of moving things along. He broke the embrace, causing her to moan in protest, but it turned into one of total consent when his mouth traveled down the sensitive column of her neck. She dropped her head back in momentary submission, and when she closed her eyes, she indulged in the feeling of not just his mouth on her, but his hands sliding around her hips, back, thighs and ass.

Just touching her like this was enough to make Tony light headed from the rush of blood and endorphins around his body. It was a feeling that he wanted to become familiar with on a daily basis, one he could look forward to as a constant source of pleasure and satisfaction. He could see himself becoming addicted to her without the slightest effort, and he wasn't at all inclined to save himself from it.

Ziva was having her own drugging experience while he worked his way around her neck. Her skin felt like it was on fire, and the throb that had started up between her legs all the way back at the party was now reaching the painful side of intense. She thought she'd never wanted him as much as she did at that moment, and she couldn't fathom how she had managed to more or less keep her hands off him for five long, tense years.

She arched her back, pushing her hips into him and running her hands firmly up his sides in what she hoped was a signal that she was more than happy for this intense make out session to move to the next level. Tony ran his hands down her spine to the backs of her thighs and back up again, under her skirt to grip her ass as he pushed his hips back into her and slid his tongue into her mouth. She felt him harder against her belly than he had been a minute ago and that, coupled with the rough touch made her cry into his mouth and her pants flood.

God, she wanted him so badly.

She started preparing for it by sliding her hands along his shoulders under his jacket and pushing it down his arms. It was designer and one of his favorites, and she wondered for a moment how annoyed he would get if she let it just fall to the floor. He didn't seem to notice (or else he didn't care as much about his clothes as he let people believe), and Ziva took his tie in her hands and yanked it open before tossing it on top of the jacket. Her hands went to his belt, but by now Tony had caught on and he demanded his own turn. His hands ran over her back and sides with more purpose, and then he scrunched the hem of her dress in his fists.

"Zipper?" he asked without breaking the kiss.

"No," she mumbled against him. "Pull."

He was already doing just that before she gave the instruction, too impatient to get his hands on her bare skin. He lifted the dress up and over her head, then took three glorious seconds to eye the perfection bared to him before Ziva slid her arms around his waist and kissed him as she pushed him backwards into her bedroom.

Tony was more than happy to be pushed, and he willingly stumbled backwards until his back landed on her mattress. He lay back and watched as Ziva crawled up his body, her hair spilling over her shoulders to tease and hide her naked breasts from his view. His hands slid up the backs of her thighs until they reached her ass, and Ziva bit her lip before she lowered her chest to his and took control of his mouth.

Her control of the situation and her dominance over him sent jolts of excitement through his body, and he heard himself growl when she settled her hips against his and wriggled. He could feel her heat through his pants, could smell her so strongly in the air that his mouth watered, and he would have been the happiest guy in the world if they really went to the place that it appeared they were hurlting towards tonight. But there was a small, insistent voice inside him that knew they wouldn't get there. They _never_ got there. They always got this far, then remembered the reality of their unknown future together and backed off. Tony felt that the moment where things petered out would come at any moment now, and he resolved to squeeze every last second of pleasure out of the night before that happened.

While he was calculating they time they had left, Ziva was still absorbed in the bliss of his mouth and hands. She lifted her knee a little higher along side him and used the purchase it gave her to grind up against him—hard. Of their own violation, Tony's hips rose to meet her as his hands pushed her down. He didn't bother trying to catch the growl that made it's way to his throat, and in reply, Ziva let out a low, breathy moan against his ear. For Tony, it didn't matter that he knew this would soon end. There was no way he could resist that moan, the one that was like a shot of liquid pleasure into his veins. In the blink of an eye, he flipped them over and thrust his hips into hers, and Ziva cried out as her back arched off the mattress and she clamped her thighs around him.

He muttered something into her cheek that she didn't quite catch, but which sounded downright dirty. She smiled as it set off another spark inside her, and she gripped his hair in her fist before attacking his mouth again. Tony met her with equal passion and soon they were almost out of their minds with years of pent up lust. Tony now ground his hips into her without hesitation and Ziva's grip in his hair tightened painfully in response. Finesse gave way to desperate clawing, nipping and gripping as they both tried to get their fill before the inevitable come-down.

Ziva's hands skimmed down his back to finally wrench his shirt out of his pants. She wrestled it up and over his head, but his cuffs got caught on his wrists, and Tony had to rest most of his weight on her as he lifted his arms above her head and yanked at them with increasing frustration. While he focused on freeing himself from the cloth cuffs, Ziva's hands returned to his back, and she ran her hands and nails greedily over the smooth skin that stretched over his muscles before sliding her fingertips under his belt.

Tony managed to get one hand free, and was considering dislocating his thumb to free the other before the buttons on his cuff finally gave way. With a growl, he tossed the shirt as far away from them as he could, and then planted his hands firmly on either side of her naked rib cage as he latched on to her neck. Tingles shot through her as she dropped her head willingly to the side, allowing him to lick and suck at her sensitive throat.

"Please," she breathed, growing dizzy with the billion sparks of pleasure thrumming through her body.

He murmured something in response that was muffled against her flesh, but Ziva didn't bother asking for a translation. She tightened her thighs around his hips as she ran her fingernails over the small of his back, then openly whimpered when he ground his hips into her and his growing hardness caught her in her most sensitive spot.

Tony growled as he thought about all the exploration into what she loved, what she craved, what made her shake and scream he had ahead of him. Right now, he was thinking of trailing his tongue down her body before burying his face between her legs so he could taste her. The thought alone was enough to make his cock jump and white-hot pleasure shoot through his veins, and while it was oh-so tempting to go there right this second, he knew it was something he would have to enjoy later. So instead of kissing his way down her body, he slid his hands upwards towards her breasts. He paused before he reached his target, gambling that it would drive her nuts.

Ziva wriggled encouragingly against him. "Tony," she begged softly, digging her fingers into the side of his torso.

Tony couldn't deny either of them, and he raked his hands up higher. When the pads of his thumbs stroked over the full, fleshy sides of her breasts, Ziva sucked in a sharp breath and bit down on his bottom lip, tugging it into her mouth. He brought another two fingers into play, buoyed by her reaction, and let the tiny, muffled noises she made against his mouth turn him on.

Soon enough, his mouth got jealous of his hands, and he gave her mouth a final, hard kiss before he slid down and started licking, sucking and kissing his way over the magnificent expanse of her chest. Her hands went back to his hair as she directed him to her breast, and then she let out a long, bliss-soaked groan as his tongue swirled over one of the most sensitive parts of her body. Ziva could scarcely believe how amazing the touch felt. Every nerve ending in her body seemed to stir and tingle, and her head was spinning as her grasp on reality began to leave her. She'd known since he stripped her that things would have to stop soon, and she'd told herself that she'd put the brakes on before it got to this point. But now that they were there and he was on the verge of being able to make her come just from licking her breasts, Ziva wasn't sure she had the strength or will to say something.

But she knew she had to, especially since his fingers had found their way into the elastic of her pants, and he was gripping the fabric like he was about to rip them off her.

"We've got to stop," she gritted out, suddenly on the verge of tears of frustration.

Tony wished she'd let them go just a little bit longer, even if he knew she was maddeningly right. "I know," he replied, but his voice was muffled against her skin. All Ziva heard was "no", and when she coupled that with the fact that he wasn't actually stopping a damn thing, it was no surprise that she misunderstood him.

"No, Tony, we've got to stop," she said again.

"I know," he repeated, pulling his mouth from the impossible softness of the skin between her breasts so that she could hear him. He took a deep lungful of her natural smell spiced with the heavy scent of her arousal, and then found the strength to lift himself off her and collapse again face down on the mattress beside her. Lying on his stomach right now was more than slightly painful, but it also served the purpose of removing temptation. That was until Ziva rolled onto her side and pressed her almost naked body against his arm. She slid one leg between his, rested her arm across his back, and drove her fingertips into his hair.

"Understand that stopping is the last thing I want to do," she panted into his ear.

Tony thumped his head against the mattress with frustration, but assured her they were in wretched agreement. "Yeah, I know."

She drew small circles on his scalp with her fingertips, and unconsciously wriggled her hips against his side. "It's just that right now—"

"Ziva," he cut in, turning his face to her, "we can talk about this, and maybe we really do need to. But if we're going to have a serious discussion, I'm going to need you to put a top on."

He watched a slow smile of awareness spread over her face. "Don't tell me you will be distracted by my naked breasts."

"Slightly."

Ziva nodded, and then rolled away off the other side of the mattress. He watched her naked back as she opened her dresser and pulled out a white tank top and slid it on. Tony groaned to himself as he closed his eyes and shook his head. The goddamn white tank top. Tony _hated_ that tank top. It was too damn sheer for his celibate peace of mind.

Ziva didn't bother with pants, and returned to the bed in just the tank top and her underwear. She sat on the bed, crossing her legs as she faced him, and Tony's eyes immediately went between her legs. Doing everything in his power to ignore primal urges, he forced his eyes closed, drew a deep breath and then pushed himself into a sitting position that mirrored hers. He grabbed a pillow and pulled it over his lap. It wasn't like she wasn't aware of how turned on he was, but if they were going to have a conversation here it would only be polite to hide the distraction.

Ziva saw the move, and smiled with self-awareness. "Sorry," she offered softly, and then rubbed her face as she tried to get her cock-blocking thoughts in order before returning to the explanation she'd started a few moments ago. "Right now, I do not know if I will be able to stay in the country."

The statement was an awesome mood killer, and Tony felt himself start to deflate. "I know."

"And although I want…" she paused as nerves replaced arousal in her belly, but pushed ahead. "I _really want_ to do this, Tony. But I can't until—"

"I know," he cut in again, fully aware of where she was going but not wanting to hear the words. "Neither can I."

Ziva nodded, relieved that he got it, and then gave him a guilty smile. "I didn't mean to tease tonight. I just…I get carried away with you."

He understood the pull towards each other only too well. His skin was still tingling from their contact and his heart was still thudding in his chest. Although the conversation had gone to a sad and worrying place, one encouraging smile from her would see him tackling her back onto the mattress and stripping her all the way down.

He swallowed hard and tried to block the thought. "Ziva, you're not teasing. And neither am I." He sighed with annoyance. "We shouldn't have to apologize to each other for this."

She watched as heavy thoughts settled over his face, and she swallowed down the sudden tightness in her throat. She wanted to reassure him, but the idea made her stomach cramp with nerves. She knew it was ridiculous to feel that way, given what they'd just gotten up to. It had to be clear to him how she felt, so it wasn't like she'd even be dropping a bombshell on him, but still. Saying the words out loud seemed like such a huge step.

Ziva swallowed again and sucked up her courage before telling him her thoughts. "If I do stay, I want to try to do this." She was speaking in shorthand, assuming that he would know what she was talking about. And because he felt the same way, he absolutely did.

"We will," he vowed, with something akin to relief in his voice. "We'll try."

Ziva smiled at her gamble with honesty paying off, and then leaned forward to kiss him one more time. She kept it light and relatively chaste, an agreement rather than a proposition, and Tony's knuckles brushed briefly down the side of her face before she pulled back.

"Maybe I should head home," he said.

The disappointment was clear on her face, but Ziva nodded. She would have preferred him to stay, but it didn't take much to understand where he was coming from. She couldn't speak for him, but her body was still thrumming with desire, and she didn't entirely trust herself to keep her hands to herself all night.

She sat on the bed and watched him turn his shirt outside-in before slipping it on, and then got up to follow him out of the bedroom. He picked up his tie and jacket from the floor by her couch and carried them to the door. With his hand on the doorknob and his shoulders slumped, he paused and looked back at her. Ziva didn't like the serious, hesitant look on his face, and she braced herself for bad news.

"Maybe we should stop this until we know…" He trailed off as his voice seemed to break, and Ziva's face fell even more. "I just can't let myself have you if I'm only going to lose you."

Arousal was gone as tears pricked the back of Ziva's eyes. In that moment, she hated him for being so protective of himself, but the feeling was gone as soon as it flared. After all, wasn't that exactly why she'd stopped things tonight?

"I know."

They held gazes, both on the verge of taking it back and saying to hell with future pain if it meant present joy. But common sense prevailed, and the heaviness in the air passed away.

Tony cleared his throat, and tried to lighten the mood. "Well. I had a lovely evening," he smiled.

Ziva breathed out a laugh, and thought of the engagement party that had brought them together that night. "So did I. And I think it is confirmed. They really just love each other."

It took him half a second to follow her train of thought, and then he recalled the conversation they'd had about Jimmy and Breena in his kitchen just a few days ago. Now, just like then, he knew they weren't really talking about the happy couple. "Yeah, they do," he nodded.

Ziva smiled, pleased that he understood her, and then leaned in for the final kiss of the night. This one was not frantic or hungry, but rather a commitment to their partnership. Tony broke it when he felt the urge to burst into tears, but he kept his face right against hers as he whispered against her mouth.

"You're not going."

He sounded so sure of it, as if he wasn't really entertaining the alternative that she knew he was, and she loved him for having her back and telling her what she wanted to hear.

"Try not to hate me if I have to," she said softly.

Tony shook his head. "I'm not making that promise because it's not going to come to that." He kissed her cheek and then opened the door. "Night."

Ziva stood in the doorway and watched him walk down the hall until he turned the corner and left her line of sight. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never been keener for him to be right.

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So, I hope that tides over those of you waiting for a second chapter to Blush.**


	6. Part 6: The Agony Aunts

**A/N: Time to finally move along from the engagement party.  
I wrote this before _Enemies Foreign_ and _Enemies Domestic_ went to air, so my interpretation of what happened after Ziva's parents' divorce is at odds with what Eli told us happened. My version's completely easy to follow, though.  
Quick recap of the previous chapter for those who decided to skip it: Tony and Ziva agreed that the physical consummation of their relationship should wait until after they find out if her application for citizenship is successful. So they're going to be hands off until then. There: you're caught up.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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**Part 6: The Agony Aunts**

Almost three weeks after the engagement party, Tony and McGee sat at a table in the grounds of the Navy Yard, soaking up some sunshine with their lunch. After spending much of the last four days stuck inside the red brick building behind them, the need for fresh air and open space had been undeniable. McGee was sure that while his complexion was naturally pale, it had never been _this_ pale before. On the up side, he probably wouldn't develop skin cancers or leathery skin. On the down side, bright lights were beginning to hurt his eyes, and he'd have to start taking Vitamin D supplements or else he'd end up with rickets.

He smirked and looked up to share his dumb prediction with Tony, but the older man was staring at a spot on the table with the same expression he'd been wearing all week. His usual enthusiasm for fun and frivolity was missing, and he seemed to be faltering under the weight of whatever was on his mind. When McGee had first attempted to broach the subject on Monday, Tony had mustered enough personality to deny that there was _ever_ anything going on under his well-coifed surface, and McGee had dropped it. But after sitting on the sidelines all week and watching the deterioration of not just Tony's, but also Ziva's, mood it was clear that everything was not sunshine and lollipops in Dynamic Duo Land.

Truthfully, McGee didn't want to get into the middle of it. He understood Tony better than he understood Ziva, but that didn't mean he wasn't freaked out by the idea of encouraging Tony to open up his battered psyche. McGee had a feeling that what he'd find there would give him nightmares to last the next 20 years. Still, they were friends, and although McGee would perhaps never say it out loud, he was a subscriber to the DiNozzo rule of never leaving a man behind. True, Tony may have been thinking in a more literal sense when he made the rule. But McGee believed that leaving someone to deal with emotional battles on their own was just as bad as leaving them in a locked room with a killer.

He took another bite of his sandwich and contemplated how to go about the conversation as he slowly chewed and swallowed. He suspected that the gentle approach would be met with scorn and hastily erected barricades. Best to tackle it head on.

"Are you good?" It wasn't the same way that he'd tackle a head-on conversation with Abby, but it'd do.

Tony lifted his eyes to McGee, and looked as though he'd heard and was processing what McGee had said. But instead of answering, he threw a question back at McGee.

"Do you think Ziva could really kill a man with a paperclip?"

McGee stared at him. He was sure there was some logic behind the leap between their two questions, but McGee couldn't see it. "Uh, I would say not. But who knows what they teach at Mossad."

Tony's face went to its thinking place, and when he didn't comment further, McGee took a shot in the dark.

"What did you do?" he asked, assuming Tony was in trouble and fearing for his life.

"What?" Tony asked, and then shook his head. "Nothing."

"Okay. Then why are you worrying about Mossad's more inventive methods of assassination?"

Tony hesitated before answering, trying to anticipate the impact of letting McGee in on his thoughts. Then he shuffled forward in his seat and leaned over the table a little more. McGee seemed to understand they were now in the Cone of Silence, and shuffled forward well. Tony looked back at him with his proper serious face, and McGee felt the air around them grow thicker.

"She just has a flair for the dramatic, you know?" he said, lowering his voice. "So when she says she screwed up a bunch of questions in her INS interview, did she really? Or was she just being fatalistic?"

"Fatalistic?" McGee repeated.

"If she came to you and said that the interview was scary, and that they didn't seem to happy about her past, would you think that was just her being overly dramatic?" Tony asked, with a look of worry on his face that McGee was sure he'd never seen. "Or would you think she was being straight with you?"

McGee didn't have a clue how to answer that. "I think it's natural for her to be nervous," he offered carefully. "But I thought the interview went well."

"Is that what she told you?" Tony asked with way more intensity than McGee was expecting.

McGee tried to recall the conversation he'd had with Ziva the day after the interview. "Uh, she said it was a walk in the park. They asked a few frizzy questions, but she seemed pretty positive."

Tony frowned. "Frizzy?"

McGee shrugged. "She meant curly."

"So she told you it was fine," Tony clarified.

"Those weren't her exact words, but that was the gist of it. Why? What did she tell you?"

Tony swallowed hard. McGee wasn't making him feel better. If she'd told him one thing, and told everyone else something different, Tony knew that he was the one who got the real story. And that story hadn't filled him with confidence. "She said she didn't choke it, but there were some things..." He stopped to swallow again. "They grilled her about her brother."

McGee inhaled sharply and leaned back again. The two men held weighty gazes, and Tony could clearly see the struggle in McGee's eyes. Then the younger man swallowed, and did his duty as Ziva's friend. "She's not him, though."

Tony sighed and looked away. His jaw looked tight enough to snap, and McGee found himself contemplating the Tony they'd be left with if Ziva had to return home. That wasn't a guy that McGee would want to be in close quarters with.

"When is she supposed to hear?" McGee asked.

Tony glanced at him briefly before looking away again. "A week ago," he muttered.

"Well, that might just mean that her application's getting special attention," McGee offered, trying to be supportive.

Tony let out a sarcastic chuckle. "Yeah, that's what we want. For someone to go over her life in minute detail. That can only end well."

McGee allowed that he had a point. He didn't really know what Ziva had gotten up to before walking onto the Navy Yard, and he didn't particularly want to find out. "It would allow for greater scrutiny but it will also allow for discretion," McGee said. "She's not a regular case, so it's better if she's not treated like one."

Tony nodded as his knee started to jiggle. "Yeah. That's what I said."

"Does she know what she's going to do if..." McGee started, but stopped himself when he heard Abby's voice in his head. _Don't say it aloud, and it might not come true_.

Tony visibly winced. "We haven't talked about it." He picked at the label of his bottle of water as he found the calm he needed to continue with his thought. "I think she might spend some time in Argentina."

"Why Argentina?"

"It's where her mom is."

McGee frowned. "I thought her mom died."

Tony shook his head. "No. But they haven't seen each other in about 20 years. She left Eli, and he'd only let her get out of the country alive if she left behind Ziva and Tali." He paused and shot McGee a warning look. "Don't tell her I told you that."

McGee's eyebrows went up in surprise, but he shook his head in a promise to take it to the grave. "He was going to kill her?"

Tony looked at him seriously. "I guess she knew a lot of Mossad secrets, McGee."

McGee took a few deep breaths. He couldn't imagine his parents wanting to kill each other or fighting over him and his sister, but clearly they'd had very different upbringings. "Right. So, she doesn't want to go back to Mossad?"

The look Tony gave him was part frustration, part anger. "What do you think they're going to do to her, Tim?" he asked tightly. "She _quit_. You don't quit _Mossad_. You leave when you're dead. She's the director's daughter, trained from birth to be a top operative, and she turned her back on it. And not just on the job. She tried to surrender her citizenship. How do you think Mossad is going to react to that?"

McGee stared back at him silently. Tony clearly wasn't looking for a response, and even if McGee had been able to make his mouth work right now, he doubted his ability to say anything helpful. As it was, he was too stunned to reply. He felt like an absolute idiot for not having caught on to the ramifications of her application before now, and now that they'd been presented to him so passionately he found himself feeling short of breath and panicked. He wondered why, if she knew the risks, she would take the chance of quitting and immigrating to the US. If her bid failed she'd have to leave the US and stay away from Israel, her other home, for the rest of her life. She'd lose friends and family, and though they'd all keep in contact with her, it wouldn't be the same as having friends to go to every day. And without the protection of the US, she'd be open to attack from Mossad for the rest of her life.

So, why the _hell_ would she do it?

_Tony,_ he realized. Probably all of them here, who had assumed the role of her family, were part of the reason. But Tony was clearly the draw card. McGee had wondered on at least a weekly basis for the last five years whether the two of them would ever just sort out the thing between them and make a move. He'd assumed that things were still in limbo, but suddenly he wasn't so sure. Ziva had to be aware of the motivation behind her decision, and McGee couldn't see how Tony could be blind to it. That he already seemed to be in mourning over her departure spoke to his distress at losing her, and McGee worried that he might wake up one morning to hear that the two of them had done something stupid together.

He leaned in again and lowered his voice before he suggested criminal activities. "Have you thought about other ways to keep her in the country? It's not romantic—_at all_—but you could marry her and she could get a visitor's visa while she works on permanent residency."

Tony didn't laugh or splutter like McGee had expected. Instead, Tony nodded. "That's Plan D."

McGee raised an eyebrow. "D? How many plans to you have?"

"Right now? Only five. But I'm working on more."

McGee slumped back again and was about to comment on the obvious commitment that had sprung up between his friends, but Jimmy Palmer chose that moment to lope across the grass towards them with a panicked expression.

"Hey!" he called. "I'm so glad I found you guys. I need your help."

Tony snapped out of the heavy conversation, and frowned as he pulled out his cell to check that he hadn't missed any calls. "Is there a case?"

Jimmy dropped onto the bench beside McGee. "No, Dr Mallard didn't send me. I need your advice on something."

McGee and Tony shared a clueless look.

"Okay?" McGee said carefully.

"Did you try to serve Ducky chamomile in the morning again?" Tony joked in an effort to shake the darkness of his previous conversation

For a moment, Jimmy looked like he thought Tony was serious. Then he caught on, scowled at Tony, and quickly shook his head. "No. Have you guys ever been in love?"

Tony blinked and stared, before glancing at the equally surprised McGee. "Wow. Just like that," he said.

McGee briefly widened his eyes in agreement, and then turned to Jimmy. "Uh, why is that relevant?"

"Breena wants us to write our own vows for the wedding," Jimmy explained, forcing a smile onto an otherwise terrified expression.

"Oh, that's really nice," McGee offered.

Jimmy turned to give him a horrified look, and McGee couldn't help but think that he'd just betrayed his friend. "Yeah, sure. It's romantic," he said, but his irritation clearly shone through. "But I have no idea what to say. And if I screw up on our wedding day, she's going to remember it forever!"

Tony made a face and shook his head. "Palmer, don't fall into that trap."

"What trap?"

"The trap of _we're married now, so we're going to fall into all the stereotypes of guy being too scared to upset her, and girl acting like it's her right to make guy suffer_," Tony explained, all on a single sigh. "It's so stupid. If you're not doing that now, don't do it after you have the rings and the piece of paper."

Jimmy leaned forward and was quite serious when he asked, "Have you been married before?"

Tony shot him a tired, impassive look, and didn't bother answering the question. "I just don't understand why previously sane people suddenly change their personalities because they think they're supposed to."

Jimmy nodded along, but Tony could tell he wasn't sold on the idea. "Okay. But I really don't want to let her down."

McGee looked at Tony, and gave a little shrug. He was completely out of his depth here, although he didn't know why he assumed Tony would be able to swim any better.

"I need your advice," Jimmy repeated, just to make it clear.

"On…what to say at a wedding?" Tony asked haltingly.

"You've been to lots, right?"

"A couple," Tony replied, making it clear that he didn't consider himself to be an expert.

But Jimmy didn't let him off the hook. "Okay, but you always know what to say," he pushed. "In any situation."

Any situation didn't actually include life-long commitments made while standing in front of an army of your friends and family, as far as Tony was concerned. He might be able to muddle through if he was the groom, but he didn't want the pressure of coming through with the goods for someone else. Slightly panicked, he looked to McGee, but McGee just smirked and bit into his sandwich. He was perfectly happy to let Tony shoulder this burden.

Tony sighed as he caved in. As much as he wanted no part in this, he couldn't leave a socially awkward man behind. "All right. What have you got?"

Jimmy looked back at him with wide eyes and shook his head. "Nothing."

It wasn't the answer Tony had been expecting. He thought Jimmy would have an idea of the things he wanted to cover, but would just need help verbalizing it. What did 'nothing' mean? "You're marrying the woman and you can't think of anything you want to say about her?"

"Well, I love her and I want to spend the rest of my life with her," Jimmy stated, with a tone free of whimsy. "But that only took two seconds to say."

"It's a good start, though," McGee encouraged.

Jimmy ran a stressed hand through his hair. "So I have a start. Now I need a middle and an end."

It dawned on Tony that he really wasn't going to get out of this helping thing with just a few nice words and some encouragement. He set down the sandwich he hadn't taken a bite of for the last five minutes, and then leaned forward to force himself to engage in the conversation. "Just tell her what you want her to know."

Jimmy shook his head. "I don't know what I want her to know."

Tony gave him a warning look. "Jimmy, you gotta help me out here."

"Sorry! I'm just nervous."

Tony's eyes were drawn heavenward for a moment. "Okay," he said at length, and then looked to McGee for a moment of guidance. "Vows are the ones where you promise you'll love, honor and cherish or whatever, right?"

McGee nodded. "Sickness, health, blah blah blah."

"Okay," Tony said, forcing patience as he looked back to Jimmy. "Start at the beginning. What did you first notice about her? Was it what she was wearing? Or what she said? The way she stood? Her hair, her smell, her voice? The way she brushed her hair over her shoulder? How she made you feel? What was it that grabbed you?"

The prompt shook something loose in Jimmy's head, and he smiled. "Her slap shot."

Tony stared at him for a moment, and then glanced at McGee to make sure that he'd heard the same thing. McGee just raised an amused eyebrow. He looked back at Jimmy and nodded away his surprise. "Okay. Good! We've got something to go on."

"Her smile," Jimmy went on, filling Tony with relief that he wasn't going to have to come up with some beautiful words centered on hockey. "And her positivity. She's so upbeat. It balances me, you know? Because I'm so dark at times."

Tony and McGee frowned deeply at the statement. Neither had ever found Jimmy to be even close to dark, but now wasn't the time to argue the point.

"Uh, yeah. It's good to have complementary personalities," McGee said.

"She makes me feel like I'm part of something, you know?" Jimmy went on, the blocked artery to his romantic heart now apparently clear. "She makes me happy every time I look at her. She brings joy to everything." He paused to give McGee then Tony a goofy grin. "I look at her and I just start thinking about what our kids will look like and what kind of dog we'll get. And how amazing it'll be to buy a house together and know that when I get home every day, that's where she'll be."

Tony put his well-practiced cop face on, nodding along and not giving anything of himself away. In truth, he was experiencing a sharp pang of jealousy in the heart region. Realistically, even if Ziva did get to stay and they gave this relationship thing a really good shot, he wasn't sure that kids were on the cards. Tony himself wasn't keen on pets, and buying a house would be on hold for at least a few years in this economy. But they could still live together. Maybe. If one of them moved to another team. They both liked their space a whole lot, and spending 24 hours a day together would probably be a good way to ensure the relationship crashed and burned within a few months. But still, he found himself jealous of everything Jimmy and Breena had to look forward to. It was so…secure.

With his own situation decidedly not secure, Tony's thoughts turned to what he would want Ziva to know if they were never going to see each other again. Then, he tried to edit the words to be appropriate for a time of celebration, rather than a time of grief.

"Start with the basics," he instructed. "Tell her all the things you'd do for her, but not just the obvious. Of course you'll say that you'll love her and support her, and be patient and understanding. All that regular, run-of-the-mill crap that everyone would say."

Jimmy nodded eagerly, eyes wide and listening to every word.

"But make a point of saying that you'll let her do that thing she does that you find unbelievably annoying, and you won't complain," Tony went on, thinking of the way Ziva _always_ had to ask questions during a movie. "Promise her that you will try not to wake her up when you get called out to a scene in the middle of the night, and that you will scrub dead guy smell off every inch of yourself before you get back in bed with her."

"Oh, that's a good one," Jimmy murmured, and McGee found himself nodding. The smell did tend to imbed itself in your pores.

"Promise that you'll defend her to everyone and have her back, even if you don't actually agree with what she's saying. But also promise to pull her up if she's being crazy and irrational about something, because no one else is going to do it."

Jimmy looked momentarily queasy, and Tony had to wonder at the kind of temper Breena had. In his experience, the tiny little blonde ones were always the scariest. Next to Mossad-trained assassins, of course.

"Maybe make some promise like the last thing you'll do every night before you go to bed is tell her you love her, and the first thing you'll do every morning is kiss her," Tony suggested. "It's one of those weird, romantic things that chicks seem to like. But don't do that if you don't think you'll be able to remember, because I guarantee she'll still be bringing it up 20 years from now."

Jimmy nodded. "Yeah, she has a really good memory. It's kind of annoying. Except it's good for her law degree."

"She's doing a law degree?" McGee cut in, unable to keep the shock out of his voice.

Jimmy smiled proudly and nodded, as Tony snapped his fingers and thought of something else.

"Oh, that's another thing. Tell her you'll push her to succeed, because her wins are your wins. You're a team." He paused, and couldn't help his thoughts drifting to his own situation again. "Promise to help her face her fears, and make sure she knows that when she's in hell, you'll go right in after her and pull her out." He swallowed some of the sudden tightness out of his throat. "Vow that you'll always be the first person she can depend on, and the last person she will doubt. And just…" He paused again as his heart slammed in his chest, and he found the guts to say it out loud. "Make it clear that you can't live without her. Because without her, you can't be you."

His words were met with silence, and Tony winced to himself and hoped for a sudden distraction. Maybe a nice plane crash, or an earthquake. Hell, even a wasp sting would be welcome at this point. But nothing happened, and Tony had to go in to bat for himself.

He shrugged casually, like none of what he'd said was that big of a deal. "I don't know. Something like that."

"Wow," Jimmy said, awed. "I don't suppose you've got all that written down somewhere?"

Tony chuckled, welcoming the levity. "No."

"So…you've been to a lot of weddings?" he guessed.

Tony shook his head. "No. Not really."

Jimmy shared a look with McGee, and McGee quickly turned his thoughtful expression into a casual smile. Clearly, Tony had just shared a whole lot of what had been on his mind lately, and McGee wasn't sure that he'd really intended to go so far. _He_ could keep a secret, but he had less faith in Jimmy. He took his nonchalant cue from Tony. _Nothing to see here, folks. Move it along._

Jimmy cleared his throat. "Well, I think I know what to say now," he said. "Thanks, Tony. Really."

Tony nodded and reached for his bottle of water. "No problem."

Jimmy stood and stepped out from behind the table. "I'm gonna go write some of that down."

Tony and McGee nodded their goodbyes, and once Jimmy was gone, total silence settled between them. Tony could feel McGee's awareness like a tangible object, sitting on the table beside his half eaten chicken with mayo, and he had the ridiculous urge to reach over and sweep his arm across the table. Clearing the slate, as it were. He could tell that McGee was weighing up how to approach it, and Tony supposed that it was too much to hope that he'd just leave it. He and Ziva had made McGee sit through the show for the last five years—the guy probably felt like he was entitled to an explanation.

"You talk about it yet?" McGee finally had the guts to ask.

Tony breathed out a laugh and pushed his lunch away. Considering how this could have gone, that was one hell of a slow pitch. "What do you think?" he threw back, all self-awareness and deprecation.

McGee looked vaguely amused, but before he could comment further, Tony's cell phone started chirping.

Tony made a grab for it. "Oh, thank God, a murder," he sighed, and answered. "Yeah, boss?"

"If you and McGee are done with your little lunch date, you think you could gas the truck?" Gibbs asked gruffly.

"Where are we headed?"

"Into the woods, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied, and then hung up.

Tony rolled his eyes at the totally unnecessarily cryptic words. "Look alive, McGee. We've got something going on in the woods." He put finger parentheses around the final two words, and then gathered up his sandwich and drink.

As they headed across the lawn back towards the main building, McGee had mercy on Tony and instead brought up something Jimmy had said.

"Jimmy Palmer with kids, huh?"

Tony chuckled. Funny that the same thing that caught McGee's attention was the thing that had sent Abby into a spin at the engagement party. "Frankly, I'm scared." He glanced at McGee. "How old are you now? About 36?"

"I'm 34," McGee said defensively. "Why?"

"Has your mom started dropping hints about wanting to see grandkids sitting at the Christmas table yet?"

McGee turned his head to look at him cautiously. "Yeah. Why?"

Tony shrugged. "She just seems like the kind of lady who'd look forward to grandkids."

McGee looked at the ground. "Yeah, well she's going to have to hold on to that wish for a while," he muttered. "Hopefully not too long."

Tony smiled into the distance. "You thinking of breeding, McGosselin?"

"Well, not in the immediate future," McGee replied, squirming slightly. "Sometime."

"I guess one of us has to," Tony said. Off McGee's confused look, he explained, "Me, Ziva, Abby…probably no kids there."

"You don't think Abby will?" McGee blurted out.

Tony thought of his conversation with Abby at the party, about how she didn't see a future with McGee, and how that went against McGee's hopes. "I think she's got some decisions to make pretty soon," he said carefully.

McGee went quiet for a few moments, mulling this new information over before switching the spotlight back to Tony. "I guess you don't get pressure."

Tony smirked as he tossed his lunch in a trashcan. "Obviously not from my mom, and my dad's never been a kids kind of guy. But I am the first-born male grandchild in a Catholic, Italian-American family," he said, holding up a finger. "And my grandmother is very much alive, very impatient, and very opinionated. Traits shard by all four of my aunts." He shook his head at McGee. "I don't think you know what pressure is, Timmy."

McGee conceded that he probably had a point. "I didn't think you talked to them much, though."

"Sometimes."

"Sometimes like when?"

"During the holidays," Tony said.

"But you never visit them during the holidays, do you?" McGee pushed, making the point that a day of pressure every year probably wasn't the burden he was making it out to be.

Tony frowned at being caught out. "Well, I usually work during the holidays.

McGee looked at him with a pointed eyebrow, but Tony was avoiding eye contact. "Lame, Tony."

"Now you sound like my nonna," Tony grumbled.

**

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I know I'm getting a bit weird with my postings. Two chapters in two days after a week of nothing. I can only say that real life is very busy right now, and that I'm posting this today because I just read a fic that absolutely **_**infuriated**_** me with its characterisation. I had to post this to impose my thoughts on you all—mwa ha ha!  
Thanks again to SnoopMaryMar and her red pen.**


	7. Part 7: The Argument

**A/N: I feel that I need to put a bit of an angst warning on this chapter. But have faith, okay?  
To everyone who wrote after the last chapter and asked if it was their story that infuriated me, the answer is no. It was by someone I'm not familiar with, and we won't speak of it again.  
Thanks again to SnoopMaryMar. ****And to the nameless person who told all their YouTube followers to read this story (and the person who told me that'd happened). That's pretty cool.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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**Part 7: The Argument**

It was a rare Saturday night for Ziva, one spent completely alone without a single dead body, crime scene or amorous partner for company. The dead bodies and crime scenes, she didn't miss. The amorous partner? That wasn't as easy to classify.

The team had spent the last 16 days straight in the office, and the last three weekends on one case or another. After five years with the team, Ziva was used to the pace and demands of the job, and honestly it didn't bother her that much. But when the tension and frustration between two team members was getting as high as it was between her and Tony, having a weekend of peace, quiet and solitude was probably the healthiest thing for _all_ of them right now.

It had been four weeks since Jimmy's engagement party. Four weeks since the last time hungry hands had roamed Tony's half naked body. Four weeks since his lips had been pressed to hers, and his hands had fisted in her hair. And four long, agonizing weeks since the two of them had agreed to stay hands-off until the Government decided her fate.

The wait for news was becoming more stressful with every day that passed. They were stuck in purgatory and their patience was nearing breaking point. They were frustrated (and not just sexually), impatient and all around cranky, and they had begun to take it out on each other. It wasn't too serious yet. A snapped response here and an irritated glance there. A ridiculous, 15-second argument over a memory card for the camera that ended with arms being thrown up in frustration and a not-so-muttered profanity. But every day, things got slightly more heated, and now it was clear to their coworkers that something was going on under the guise of their regular sparring.

Yep, a weekend of breathing room was exactly what they needed. And Ziva had (mostly) enjoyed every minute of it.

Although it was probably still too early in the evening to get into bed, Ziva decided that she had earned the luxury. There was a book that she had been meaning to start for the last three weeks, and tonight would be the perfect opportunity to get into it and let it help her get her mind off her situation. After locking up the apartment and turning out the lights in the living room, she went to the bedroom and changed into her pajamas. She had just pulled back the sheets and was about to slide into the comfort of her bed when the trill of her cell phone sounded from across the room. She looked up quickly and glared at the glowing blue screen.

_Tony_, she thought immediately, and muttered a Hebrew curse aloud. If he was calling to ask for a ride home from a bar, she would sell him to a glue factory. They originally had plans for the night, but they had agreed to cancel in favor of trying to regain some semblance of sanity. But it would be just like him to call her anyway, not because he needed her for anything, but because he thought it would be funny.

Ziva stalked over to where the phone was sitting in its charger and prepared to make it clear to him just how _un_funny he was. But it was Abby's name that appeared on caller ID, and Ziva's irritation turned to frustration. She loved Abby, but she was not in the mood to go out clubbing with her. She wanted to stay home where it was comfortable, where she could wear her pajamas instead of tight pants and stilettos, and where it didn't smell like cigarettes, stale beer and too much aftershave. Abby would understand, right?

She took the phone off the charger. "David," she answered, and then noticed a distinct lack of club music in the background. Maybe Abby was just calling to say _hi_. It wouldn't be the first time.

"OhmyGodZiva!" Abby came out in her usual freight train manner, but the tone in her voice was far more stressed than normal. "You've gotta help me! Gibbs is on a date and Tony's not answering his phone so I can't talk to either of them and it's past Ducky's bedtime and I just need you to come down here and help me because I'm _freaking out_ and I can't do this by myself!"

Ziva's gut clenched at Abby's obvious distress but she kept her voice calm. "Abby, what happened? Why are you freaking out?"

"Timmy collapsed!" Abby sobbed, and Ziva could imagine black streaks running down pale cheeks on the other end of the line. "He's in the hospital and I don't know what's going on. I need Gibbs. _Get me Gibbs, Ziva!_"

Ziva winced at the harshness of Abby's order, but she immediately started moving. She grabbed her jeans back out of her closet and held the phone between her shoulder and her ear as she stripped off her pajama pants. "Did you try to call him at all? Gibbs always answers and—"

"He's on a date!" Abby yelled down the line, clearly past the point of civility. "I can't break that up, Ziva. He knows I don't like that _snake_ he's cozying up to and if I call he'll think I'm doing it on purpose or overreacting! _You've_ got to do it."

Ziva grabbed a pair of flip-flops that she could jam her feet into without bothering with socks or zips or laces. "I will," she promised. "But you've got to tell me what happened to Tim."

"I don't know!" Abby cried. "He's been feeling sick all day and then tonight he had really bad stomach pains. Like, real bad, Ziva. And then he passed out and I called an ambulance and—"

"Where are you?" Ziva asked. She dashed out of her bedroom and towards the front door, pausing only to grab a light coat from the rack and her keys.

"Mercy General."

"I am coming now," Ziva told her. "And I will call Gibbs."

"And Tony!" Abby shot in. "I need Tony! Is he with you?"

"No, but I will track him down." She left her apartment and tried to shove her arms into her coat as she walked down the hall. "Hang in there, Abby. I will be there soon."

Abby hung up without another word and Ziva reminded herself not to take offense. Abby could be sweet as pie, but when she was stressed out, she could be as blunt as Ziva on her worst day. Having a friend in the hospital was at the top of Abby's stress list.

She speed-dialed Gibbs as soon as she stepped off the elevator in the lobby of her building, and he answered on the second ring before she'd even made it to the front door.

"What, David?" he practically growled.

Ziva didn't waste time with a polite apology. "I just got a hysterical call from Abby. McGee has collapsed with stomach pains and has been admitted to Mercy General. Abby needs you there."

There was a slight pause, and then Gibbs came back with his full attention. "What does 'stomach pains' mean?"

"I do not know," Ziva replied, as she hit the street and jogged round the corner to her car. "Abby was not able to provide detailed information. I am on my way there now."

"DiNozzo with you?"

It was probably a legitimate question, but Ziva was too stressed out about their relationship and unprepared for Gibbs' interest, and she found herself snapping back. "No, Gibbs," she said through gritted teeth. "He is not. I will call him when I hang up from you."

At that, the line went dead and Ziva cursed again as she pulled open the door and bundled herself inside. She stuck the key in the ignition but speed-dialed Tony before turning the engine over. She didn't know whether he would answer. Abby said she had tried to call him but hadn't gotten through, and Ziva wondered what that meant. Tony always answered. Maybe he was out and couldn't hear it. Maybe he was otherwise occupied. Maybe he hadn't charged the battery. Maybe—

"I was just about to call you, Sweetcheeks," came his voice across the line.

Ziva rolled her eyes at herself for worrying. "Did you get Abby's message?"

"Abby's message?" he repeated, and Ziva pitched his level of intoxication at pretty low. He sounded merry, but not drunk. "No, I have not received any messages from Abby."

"Then why were you going to call me?"

He sounded very pleased with himself. "Because I'm leaving Josh's place now with a slab of tiramisu that Celeste made, and I know the stuff makes you go weak at the knees. So I thought I'd bring it over with _La Dolce Vita_ if our self-imposed separation is over and…" He trailed off, although Ziva didn't understand why. When he spoke again, it was with a much more casual and indifferent tone. "Uh, we don't have to do that."

Ziva sighed. He was going to bring her tiramisu and old Italian movies? Self-imposed separation or not, that actually sounded really good. She spared a moment while she considered whether they should have been making the effort to spend more time together while they had the chance, but it was too complex to work out on the spur of the moment, and it made her too sad.

"We cannot do that," she told him regretfully, her mind back on track. "I am on my way to Mercy General. Abby just called to say McGee was taken in with stomach pains. That is all I know. Abby said she needs you there."

Tony paused in much the same way Gibbs had done. "Jesus. Okay. Why'd Abby call _you_?"

Ziva bit her tongue as any goodwill he'd earned with promised tiramisu evaporated. "Because Gibbs is on a date, _you_ were not answering your phone, and Ducky is probably asleep." She had become close friends with Abby over the years, but she knew that she would always be at the bottom of Abby's _Go to in a personal crisis_ list. She was okay with that, but Tony didn't have to make fun of it.

"Makes sense," he said agreeably, but Ziva could still hear the smirk in his voice. "Would you be able to pick me up?"

"You don't have your car?"

"No. And I'm probably too drunk to drive anyway," He put on his most charming voice, throwing in some Italian for good measure. "Ziva, _bella_, _Tesoro_, I have tiramisu. Would you please be able to make my day and pick me up?"

Ziva smirked into the phone. "I've been trying to pick you up for years, Tony," she shot back, and then hung up while she still had the upper hand.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Ziva double parked outside Josh's row house and rushed up the path to knock on the door. Celeste, Josh's 6'1 model-esque wife whom Ziva had met briefly several months ago, answered with a friendly smile.

"Hey, Ziva! Come on in. Tony's just helping Josh move the barbeque back into the shed."

Ziva stepped inside the comfortable, tastefully decorated house and tucked her unruly hair behind her ears. She was suddenly very conscious that she was dressed even more casually than normal in the presence of someone as put together as Celeste. Had she even changed out of the tank top she had put on to sleep in? She glanced down at herself and sighed. No, she hadn't.

"You had a barbeque?" she asked, trying not to appear as irrationally intimidated as she was by the perfectly friendly woman.

Celeste rolled her eyes. "Josh bought it last weekend. We've had a barbeque _every day_. If he tries it again tomorrow, I'm gonna shove that pretty face of his into the grill."

Ziva took the comment about as seriously as it had been intended. "It is a non-stick plate, yes? I would not want to clean that up."

Celeste laughed, but then gave her a sympathetic look. "I'm really sorry about Tim. I hope he'll be all right."

"Have you met?" Ziva asked.

Celeste shook her head, sending her loose red curls swaying about her shoulders. "No, but Tony talks about you all a lot. When we see him, that is. I get the feeling he thinks of Tim as a little brother or something."

"Yes, it is very much like that," Ziva said, shooting Celeste a smile before catching sight of a framed photo on the wall. It was of Celeste, Josh, Tony and another guy from what had to be 20 years ago when they were in college together. Tony's hair was several shades lighter and his body slightly bulkier with college athlete muscle, but the trademark smile was on display, and Ziva found herself smiling back.

"He seems much happier now," Celeste said, drawing Ziva's attention back.

She frowned. "Tim?"

"No, Tony," Celeste chuckled, and then glanced over her shoulder to check that they were still alone. "I mean, he's always outwardly happy, but you know as well as I do that's a pile of crap. But lately, the last couple of times I've seen him, it seems like he's finally happy on the inside as well."

Ziva had not been expecting anything from Celeste outside the realm of small talk, and was completely unprepared for a meaningful discussion about her partner's psyche. "Yes?" she hedged, trying to work out what exactly Celeste was getting at.

"It's just such a relief," Celeste went on, making Ziva wonder if her tongue had been loosened by wine. "Josh and I were so worried about him after what happened in Philadelphia when we weren't there to help. It changed him, you know? From the guy we knew in college, and we were so worried we'd never get _our_ Tony back. But…" She paused to touch Ziva's arm and flash her a grateful smile. "He's finally getting there. _Finally._ I think you've got his head on straight. Thank you so much, Ziva."

Ziva stared back at her, completely lost in the conversation. "I do not—"

"Hey, Zee-vah!" Tony called, coming into the living room behind Josh and carrying two containers filled with desert. "Thanks for not ditching me." He looked at Josh and cocked his head towards Ziva. "You remember my partner, the superhero?"

Josh smirked at Tony, but shot a genuine smile at Ziva. "How could I forget? Good to see you again, Ziva."

"You too."

"We gotta go," Tony said, and shared a backslapping bro-hug with Josh. "See you at the game."

"Unless you find some lame federal agent excuse to skip it," Josh returned.

Tony went to Celeste for a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek. "Thanks for feeding me."

Celeste gave him a measuring look. "Yeah, sweetheart, I'm worried that you're wasting away."

Tony scowled at her teasing and gently shoved Ziva towards her. "Ziva, take her out. I'll testify that I didn't see anything."

"No, I do not think I will do that," Ziva said gently.

Tony baited Celeste over Ziva's shoulder. "You're lucky she's the stable, well-adjusted one."

Ziva whirled on him with a sky-high eyebrow. "_I'm_ the stable, well-adjusted one?"

Tony nodded at her meaning. "Yeah, I know. We're screwed." He slung his arm around her shoulders and steered her towards the door. "Come on. Let's go find out what kind of trouble Timmy's in."

Ziva was kind enough to wait until Tony had buckled his seatbelt before pressing her foot to the floor and accelerating the car to warp speed. It was hardly out of the ordinary for Ziva, but the look on her face was.

"Why do you have that weird look on your face?" he asked conversationally.

Ziva went on the defensive. "What look? This is my face."

Tony lifted the corner of one of the containers and stuck his finger into the tiramisu. "No, that's not your face. Your face is generally not so frowny."

"I am not frowning," Ziva insisted, even as the crease between her eyebrows deepened.

"What did Celeste say to you?" Tony asked. "She can get kind of intense when she's had wine."

"Nothing," Ziva muttered. She wasn't sure _what_ exactly Celeste had said, or why it made Ziva feel slightly panicked. She just knew that it was somehow _big_, and she didn't know how to ask him to explain it to her.

Tony narrowed his eyes like he was sizing her up. "You're not even trying to pretend like that's the truth."

Ziva frowned deeper and took the corner at the end of the road sharply. Not only was he a merry drunk, but he was a chatty drunk tonight.

Tony winced and held on. "You can't end this conversation by putting me in emergency. McGee's already there, and Gibbs and Abby will string you up if you hurt me."

"Be quiet, Tony," she sighed.

Tony ignored her. "You want some tiramisu?"

"Not if you have had your finger in it."

"It's pretty good," he continued, ignoring her mood in favor of amusing himself. "Not as good as mine, but I learnt at the feet of my Italian grandmother—" He went quiet as Ziva took another corner at light speed, and then cleared his throat. "I am concerned about the methods you use to alleviate your aggression, Ziva," he said evenly.

"Will you please stop talking like a therapist?" she threw at him.

"Will you please _start_ answering simple questions like a regular person?" he hit straight back.

Ziva bit her tongue before she bluntly asked him what happened in Philadelphia and what it had to do with her. She was getting lost in her anxiety and worry again, and she had to stop taking it out on him.

She took a calming breath, and then approached it as delicately as she could in her current mood. "Do not get angry with me when I tell you," she began, taking her hand off the wheel to hold up an index finger in warning. "I had barely said hello to her when she started divulging all this information."

He went silent for a moment, and Ziva felt the mood in the car change. "What information?" he asked carefully.

She flipped her hair out of her face and again wished she had brought a hair band with her. "She told me that she was relieved that you are happy again. As in _real_ happy, not the fake surface happy you put on so often," she said, with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

"The fake, surface happy?" Tony repeated, a fight creeping into his voice for the first time that night.

Ziva held her finger up again. "I did not say it, Tony," she reminded him. "Do not get angry with me."

"I'm not angry with you," he said tightly. "What else did she say to you?"

Ziva closed her eyes briefly and sighed again, and she could feel Tony bracing himself for impact. "She said she and Josh were worried they would never get their old Tony back after what happened in Philadelphia."

Silence.

"But she said that you seemed to have your head on straight now," she continued warily. "I am not sure what that means, exactly, but she seemed pleased by it."

"What else did she tell you about Philly?" Tony asked, beginning to speak before she had finished. His joviality from just minutes before was gone, and Ziva felt her heart pang with regret. She should never have said anything.

"Nothing, Tony," she said softly. "She seemed to think that I already knew."

"Do you?"

She shot him a quick frown. "No," she said obviously.

"Honestly?" Tony asked, pushing the point. "Because I know you did all that background research on us for your brother, and—" He cut himself off when Ziva's head whipped around and her eyes aimed daggers at him, but only for a second. He re-gathered courage and pushed it further. "You did, right? That's a fact."

Ziva's eyes went back to the road with what Tony could have sworn was the beginning of a tear. "It was my job," she bit out, her jaw clenched as a sudden lance of pain in her chest almost took her breath away. All these years, and she couldn't let it go.

"I know, Ziva," he said tiredly, not succeeding in keeping the fight out of his voice. "I'm not saying you did it maliciously—"

"Yes, that is _exactly_ what you are implying."

"No, it's _not_," he insisted, voice rising. "Don't put words in my mouth!"

"I did not have a choice," Ziva told him firmly, even as her voice wavered. "I did not know what he would do with the information."

"I know, goddamn it!" Tony cried. "I'm just saying that you did background research on us, and that the thing that happened in Philly might've been something that came up in that research."

"Well it didn't!" she shot. "I do not know _anything_ about it!"

"Okay, fine!" he almost yelled back.

They traveled for a few miles in silence, heavy breathing filling the car as they both tried to calm down from another fight that came out of nowhere.

"I don't blame you for it, Ziva," he finally said.

She frowned at him. "For Philly?"

Tony shook his head and swallowed hard. "No. For what happened with him and Kate. I don't blame you for any of that. I don't know if that's what you think, but I want to make it clear."

When Ziva didn't respond, he forced himself to look at her. Almost immediately he looked away again, when it was clear that she was struggling not to cry. As much as Tony hated it when women cried, sometimes he wished Ziva just would. He wished that she wouldn't try to keep the mask in place around him. All it did was remind him of everything he didn't know about her and never would.

"In Philly," he began, but Ziva cut him off.

"I do not want to know."

His eyes went out the passenger window as he coped with the sting and tried to swallow it down. "I kind of need you to know."

"Why?" Ziva asked softly, trying very hard not to fight. "You have known me all this time without needing me to know."

Tony cocked his head to himself in agreement. "Yeah, but our relationship's different now."

Ziva sighed. That was an understatement. "Yes," she said cautiously, letting him lead.

Tony debated getting into it now, but in the end, he decided that now—in a car on the way to the hospital—wasn't the right time. "We can talk about it later," he said, letting her off the hook. "Doesn't have to be now. Actually, there might be some tears, so later would be good. I can't do the big brother thing for Abby when I'm crying."

Ziva could not recall a single time she had seen him cry, and wondered if he was embellishing or warning. "You do not have to tell me anything you are uncomfortable with."

Tony chuckled like it was no big deal, but kept his eyes trained on the passing buildings. "Yeah, but if I can't tell you, I can't tell anyone. It's okay. We'll talk later."

She still wasn't sure she wanted to know. "Okay."

They traveled another few miles in silence, Tony trying to build a plan for how to tell her what had happened with Jill in Philly almost 15 years ago. He'd talked it through almost a dozen times with detectives, lawyers and therapists, but not for a long time. Abby had only received the abridged version, and that'd been enough to make him tense and nervous for days afterwards. God only knew how he'd cope with laying out every detail for Ziva.

He cleared his throat. "Subject change?" he suggested.

"Sounds good."

He looked over to find her face settled in a neutral expression. "So, how freaked out was Abby?

Ziva glanced at him. "She was not exactly calm," she understated. "Mostly, she was worried about McGee. But I think she was upset by Gibbs' date as well."

Tony did a full body shudder. "No kidding. This dating thing he's doing is giving me the heebie jeebies. Have you ever seen Gibbs flirt? It's…gross."

Ziva shot him a teasing smirk. "Have you ever seen _you_ flirt?"

Tony aimed a big, confident smile at her. "It's magic."

Ziva chose to ignore that. "Abby does not like her. She did not want to call Gibbs because she was convinced he would think she was making it up."

"Did she say how bad it was?" Tony asked, looking at her closely to catch any of her usual tells. But Ziva didn't bother to hide her worry.

"No," she said with a shake of her head. "Abby just said he had been feeling sick all day and that he developed severe stomach pains before passing out."

Tony sighed and dropped his head back against the seat. "Poor kid. He doesn't have the iron disposition of you or Gibbs, or the grace to handle it like me."

Ziva shot him an appalled look, and Tony returned a smile that assured her he had been joking. Mostly.

"Be nice to him," Ziva admonished lightly.

"I'm always nice," Tony insisted. "But I'm not handing over this tiramisu to him, if that's what you're suggesting."

Ziva smiled under rolling eyes. "I would not dream of asking you to."

* * *

By the time they pulled into the lot at Mercy General, Tony's merriness had returned and Ziva had relaxed. She stepped out of the car, only to turn and lean back in, across the driver's seat, to stick her finger into the tiramisu and bring it to her mouth.

"Wow. This is really good," she told him, and went back for another finger-sized scoop.

Tony glanced over and smirked. "You know, I can see right down your top now."

"I do not know why you think that is news," she replied, and swallowed more of the dessert. "I need a spoon."

"I'll spoon you later," Tony cracked, not expecting her to get the joke. But Ziva did, and she winked at him as she wiped some cream off her lip and retreated from the car once more. Tony smirked, supposing that her vague encouragement meant that they were done with fighting for the night. He could definitely get on board with that. He was truly getting sick of their increasingly frequent spats.

Neither of them noticed Gibbs 20 feet behind them, quickening his pace to catch up as they all walked out of the car park and towards the hospital. He watched as Tony put his hand briefly on Ziva's back before he caught her gaze and they smiled at each other. Then Tony dropped his hand and Ziva crossed her arms over her chest.

"Glad it's not the white one," Tony said.

Ziva tilted her head back to look up at him, her frown indicating that she wasn't following his train of thought. "White one what?"

His mouth pulled in a small grin as his eyes fell to her chest for a moment. "Tank top."

Ziva looked down at the black tank she was wearing that she had been planning on sleeping in. "I did not have time to change," she said. "I had to round up Abby's support team."

"I'm not complaining," he said.

Ziva looked at him with heavy eyes. "I thought the white was your favorite," she teased.

"It has its merits," he admitted, thinking of how transparent that top got in the morning sunshine. "I _knew_ you wore that on purpose."

Ziva shrugged, unconcerned at being caught out. "It seems to make you happy," she said, before grabbing his arm for balance as she tripped in her flip-flops on the gutter she was trying to step over.

Tony grabbed her with both hands, and chuckled. "Stealth, Ziva. Aren't you supposed to have a degree in ninja or something?"

"Don't laugh at me," she warned, even as she laughed at herself. "Abby is not the only one who knows how to kill without leaving evidence."

"You know, Ziva, every time you threaten me without following through, it loses a little more impact."

"Maybe I will have to stop threatening and just start torturing."

Tony shot her a lascivious grin. "I love it when you talk dirty to me."

Whatever retort she had ready was swallowed when Gibbs decided to make his presence known.

"Hey!" he called.

They both stopped and turned to see Gibbs just four feet behind them. He was dressed up in a grey suit, blue shirt and black tie, and Tony and Ziva both grinned gleefully at the sight.

"Nice suit, boss," Tony said. "Lookin' sharp."

"Very dashing, yes?" Ziva said, looking to Tony to make sure she'd used the correct word.

Gibbs rolled his eyes and shoved his way between them. "You two chuckleheads get to see Abby yet?"

"No, we just arrived," Ziva told him. "How was your date?"

Gibbs spun, and Tony grabbed her arm and pulled her back slightly, out of fire-breathing range.

Ziva understood the warning, but continued anyway. "What? You have been dating for a while, yes? It has to be going well."

"Oh, Ziva. _Please_ stop talking," Tony begged quietly.

"Fine," Gibbs growled, and Ziva knew she'd pushed her luck as far as it would go.

"Well, good," she said.

Gibbs turned again, and Ziva felt Tony tug her hair. She looked over at him and he shook his head and gave her a look she read as _'You're crazy'_.

She stepped in close to him and whispered, "Don't act like you don't want to know."

"Well I guess if you're going to ask, the parking lot of a hospital would be one of the better places to do it," he whispered back.

"It will be good for him," Ziva insisted. "To have other interests—"

"You weren't around after he broke up with Darlene," Tony cut in. "That was _not_ good for him. _Or_ the rest of us."

"You're assuming they will break up," she argued. "Maybe—"

"You know I can hear you two gossiping, right?" Gibbs called back to them.

Tony winced. "Right, boss. Hearing's better than your eyesight. We're shutting up." He looked at Ziva, and repeated pointedly, "We're shutting up."

Ziva sighed. "Shutting up."

* * *

As the clock crept closer to 0100, Gibbs pushed himself out of his chair in McGee's recovery room. The poor kid's appendix had burst, no doubt causing the agony that had caused him to pass out, but his emergency surgery had saved him before infection set in. He would most likely be allowed to leave the hospital on Monday. After hearing the diagnosis and being assured McGee would be fine, Abby's mania had subsided almost immediately. She collapsed into the chair beside McGee's bed two hours ago and hadn't gotten up since. It was clear she'd be there all night.

Gibbs passed behind her chair and squeezed her shoulder. "Coffee," he told her, and pressed a quick kiss to her head.

Abby looked over her shoulder at him and waved her Caf-Pow that Tony and Ziva had brought in a while ago. "If Tony and Ziva are still out there, tell them they should go home. And thank Ziva for tracking you guys down. And thank them for coming."

Gibbs paused by the door until he was sure she didn't have any more instructions, and then nodded and headed down the hall to the small waiting room they'd commandeered that evening. He didn't doubt that they would both still be there. He just didn't know what mood they'd be in.

It would have been obvious to even the casual observer that Tony and Ziva had been up and down a lot lately. More so than usual. Gibbs wasn't clear on the source of the snippier-than-normal dialogue, and he sure as hell didn't _want_ to know. He just wanted them to sort it out and get back to normal before one of them took it too far and they came to blows.

He turned and walked into the waiting room, and stopped dead in his tracks. If the picture before him was anything to go by, Gibbs shouldn't have been worried about fistfights. Rather, he should have been preparing for some serious rule-breaking.

Tony was sitting in the corner of the couch, slumped right down so that his ass was barely on the seat. His knees were tented and his feet were propped against the edge of the coffee table. Ziva lay on her side across the remainder of the couch, her back to the rest of the room and her head on Tony's stomach. DiNozzo had an arm lying possessively over her waist, and the two of them were fast asleep.

Gibbs supposed this meant that they weren't going to be doing any fistfighting tonight.

It was his first impulse to go over there and smack them both awake, but he resisted the urge and instead looked heavenward for patience and strength. He'd seen this coming. Ever since the first time he'd been in a room with both of them together, Gibbs knew that sooner or later they'd all be dealing with this. Frankly, he'd expected it to happen a lot sooner. Years ago, in fact. So he didn't know why he was suddenly so surprised by the evidence.

It occurred to him now, as he silently backed out of the room and went in search of a desperately needed coffee, that this could be why they'd been behaving so differently of late. Ziva's application was still up in the air, and it was stressful enough for the rest of them left wondering if a member of their family was going to leave them. But if Tony and Ziva were in a relationship and looking at the possibility of being broken up, their shared moodiness suddenly made a lot more sense.

Gibbs scowled to himself as he stepped into the elevator and smacked the button for the ground floor cafeteria. The boss side of him was irritated beyond belief that they'd finally given in. Not only would the possible/inevitable break up impact his whole team, but so would the romance. Gibbs had been in their shoes and knew how easy it was to get distracted, even when you were determined not to be. Distractions put the entire team in jeopardy, and as far as Special Agent Gibbs was concerned, the two of them had no right to put the team in that kind of danger.

But the other side of him, the side that loved them like his own kids and wanted nothing more than to see them both be happy and at their best, was the side responsible for the barest of smiles tugging at his lips. They'd waited a long time, both by choice and by circumstance, and the fact that they were still determined to give themselves a chance said a lot about how strongly they must have felt, and how sure they must have been. As much as he'd deny it, four marriages and another relationship that had felt like a marriage spoke to the fact that deep down, Jethro Gibbs was a romantic. The part of him that didn't feel like their boss was genuinely happy for them and wanted it to work out.

Right now, Gibbs wasn't sure how to handle the conflict within him. But there was one thing both sides of him agreed on: if Ziva's application was denied and she had to return home, the loss—of both of them—would be unbearable.


	8. Part 8: The Gossip

**A/N: I've just realized that I've been saying INS throughout this whole thing when I probably should have been saying USCIS. Bad author! I'm leaving every reference as INS for consistency, but rest assured that I have been shamed by my mistake.  
Enjoy my next chapter offering. I'm not finished putting them through the wringer yet.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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* * *

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**Part 8: The Gossip**

His argument with Ziva on the way to the hospital was still weighing on Tony's mind a week later. The situation in Philadelphia with Jill wasn't something he'd ever thought he'd have to explain to anyone ever again. The last person he'd told was Abby, not because he'd felt the need to share the ordeal with her but because she'd been there out of sheer coincidence four years ago when the situation had reared its head and left him sick and shaking. He'd sworn her to secrecy about the whole thing, and Tony believed that she'd obeyed his wishes. Certainly he'd know if she told McGee. The probie would've blurted something out by now. And if she'd told Gibbs or Ziva, Tony was pretty sure they would have immediately confronted him.

It was how Tony wanted it. He didn't want to make a big deal of it, he didn't want to make anyone angry and burden them with his history. He just wanted to keep living his life the way he was and not drag the past into the present.

But that wasn't going to happen. If Abby hadn't suggested at the engagement party that he read Ziva in, the argument he'd had with his partner after Celeste had opened her big mouth made it clear that he had to. Celeste had assumed Ziva knew about Jill because she had been convinced for the last couple of years that Tony was in love with her. She may not have been right about that the whole time (or maybe she had been), but she and Abby were both right. If Tony had serious, forever feelings for Ziva—and he did—he had to be completely honest with her about what had happened.

He was mulling over how to approach the subject while he sat by himself in the office late that night. The team had a busy day spent wrapping up a case, and when Ziva and McGee had pushed back their chairs and shut down their computers that evening, Tony found himself not just with his report to finish, but theirs to read and approve. Gibbs hadn't said anything about wanting it done by morning, but Tony wanted them off his desk. It was only a coincidence that the work would keep him away from Ziva for the night, but it was one that he welcomed. He needed some time alone to work this out.

He was halfway through McGee's report when Special Agent Cassie Mason, an old friend of Kate Todd's and one of Tony's one-night stands from a hundred years ago, approached his desk. Tony glanced up when she entered his periphery, and Cass gave him a tired smile as she put a hand on McGee's chair and dragged it over. Tony sat up straighter and shot her a charming smile that he knew would make her roll her eyes and smirk. She didn't disappoint.

"How're you doing, Tony?" she asked, dropping onto McGee's chair.

"I'm super, thanks for asking," Tony replied. "How are things over your side of the partition?"

Cass seemed to really consider the question instead of throwing back a generic response, and so Tony wasn't surprised when she answered truthfully. "Frustrating. Irritating."

"And it's another Thursday night in the Navy Yard," Tony commiserated.

Cass chuckled. "Right. So, I've been meaning to ask you something."

Tony put down his pen and shook his head knowingly. "No, it's not Botox," he joked. "I'm naturally as smooth as a baby's butt."

Cass shook her head with an amused smile, but otherwise ignored the comment. "Rumor has it that there's going to be an opening in your team soon."

Tony kept his poker face in tact, but under the surface, he began to fume. That he and Ziva were aware of the realities of her application was one thing. For someone outside of their team to make dire assumptions was another. And how dare Cass think it was okay to come over here and act like Ziva leaving would just mean that they were left with an HR situation.

He decided to play dumb in the hope that making her fully explain herself would make Cass squirm with shame. "An opening? What do you mean?"

Cass blinked at him like it was obvious. "Uh, like a spare position," she spelt out. But when Tony continued to stare at her blankly, she added, "Because of Officer David."

Tony shrugged like he was clueless. "What about her?"

"Isn't she moving to another team?"

Tony frowned. The conversation had just gone someplace he wasn't expecting _at all_. Moving to another team? He leaned forward, eager to hear more of this rumor. "Okay, wait. Go back. What's the rumor going around?"

Cassie looked at him askance. "Maybe it doesn't matter. Sounds like it's not true."

"Humor me."

She cleared her throat and leaned into him. "Well, everyone knows about Gibbs' rules, right? So I guess people thought she'd be moving on. Because you're not going anywhere unless it's to your own team, and there aren't any team leader positions going right now."

Tony shook his head as he tried to make sense of it. "You're only confusing me more."

Cassie sighed, like she couldn't work out if he was screwing with her, or was really so dense. She tried to step him through it anyway. "Gibbs has his rules," she started.

"I am aware of that," Tony nodded.

"And he has that specific one about…" She paused for a moment to try to recall the information, "Something to do with not dating your partner. Right?"

Tony's heartbeat increased. Crap, what were people saying about them? He didn't say a word, and Cassie continued carefully.

"And since you and Officer David are…" She trailed off, but made a face that clearly conveyed the rest of the sentence.

Tony made her say it anyway. "Since we're what?"

Cassie's shoulders slumped, as her attempt at discretion failed. "Aren't you guys dating?" she came out and asked. "I mean, you're never more than six feet from each other and you got her that antique piano for her birthday last year."

Tony wondered how the _hell_ Cassie Mason knew that he found Ziva that antique upright. Probably Palmer told her, he decided. He'd tuned it for her. And he also didn't know how to keep a secret. Regardless of how she knew, Tony tried to play it cool. "So?"

"That's quite a gesture for someone who's just a coworker," Cass pointed out.

"You wouldn't buy a piano for Bateman?" Tony deflected, referring to Cassie's partner.

"I might be convinced to go to Starbucks for him," Cass muttered.

"Would you bring him back something with whipped cream? Because I think that means it's love," Tony quipped.

She ignored him. "So, you're not dating?"

Tony rubbed his chin. "We're…not," he replied, technically telling her the truth.

Cassie nodded, taking him at his word. "Okay. So, is she moving to the Los Angeles office? Because that's another rumor going around."

Tony frowned deeply. "Read me in on that one?"

Cassie picked at a chip on the corner of Tony's desk as she replied. "Bateman saw her coming out of MTAC with Vance last week. Apparently they'd been in some videoconference with Callen in Special Ops. Officer David was saying something about having to find a house over there pretty quickly."

Tony's heart started its panic rhythm again. Ziva hadn't said anything about that. She hadn't even mentioned that she'd been in MTAC with Vance, but Tony absolutely bought that her background would make her a good fit for that team, and he could see Vance wanting to move her. Jesus, when would she have had time to have that meeting without the rest of them knowing? And why would she have been talking about real estate in LA if she weren't thinking she'd need it?

He swallowed hard, and deflected the conversation again. "_Agent_ David. She's not Mossad anymore."

Cassie eyed him, and then shrugged and changed the subject slightly. "Well, do me a favor and keep me in mind if a position ever opens up in the future. I'd like to work with you guys."

"Why would you want to do that?" Tony asked, forcing bravado to cloak the wavering in his voice. "Me, I can understand. But Gibbs is liberal with the corporal punishment and works a standard 18-hour day, Ziva can kill you with a stare from ten feet away, and McGee gets cranky if you touch his things."

She chuckled easily. "That may be so, but you're still the best team in the agency, and you work the most high profile cases." She glanced around the bullpen. "Plus, there's a pretty good vibe going on in this little cluster of desks. You all seem to really like each other."

'We don't," Tony joked, but dipped his head in acknowledgement at Cassie's disbelieving eyebrow. "Okay. Maybe sometimes."

"Seems like more than sometimes."

Tony looked around the empty desks, and then gave her a small smile. "So, they're family," he admitted. "But don't tell anyone I said that."

"You've got a reputation, huh?" Cassie smiled.

"Damn straight."

Cassie leaned in, and held his gaze. "I've got to tell you, Tony. That reputation doesn't really follow you anymore. I don't think there's a woman in this building who's been hit on by you in a year or more. And the brass are saying that you're one to watch." She wagged a finger at him. "You can't hide behind the dumb, slutty slacker label for much longer. Too many people know it's a front."

Tony leaned back, away from her, as he got uncomfortable with the psychological analysis. As he usually did in times such as these, he defaulted to humor. "Well, it was fun while it lasted." He quickly turned the focus back on her. "So, things aren't good between you and Bateman?"

Cassie leaned back in the chair and crossed her legs. "It's just not a good fit. Have you ever had a partner you weren't a good fit for?"

Tony thought back over the last 17 years of his career. "Once, with a detective in Baltimore. But it only lasted a couple of months before I came here."

"We've been partnered for a year," Cassie said, telling the story with her hands. "It's always hard having a mixed team. You know that, right? You've got David now, and you were with Kate before her, so you've dealt with that extra layer of crap. But I swear to God, we don't even speak the same language, you know?"

Tony knew it wasn't what she was getting at, but he couldn't help but think of Ziva's habit of getting her idioms mixed up. "Yeah, I know," he said with a smirk. "But hang in there. Because that opening in this team you're talking about?" He shook his head. "It doesn't exist."

Cassie sighed. "Oh well. Guess I've got to find another team to bug."

"I think there might be something coming up on Leiberman's team," Tony offered. "I'm pretty sure it's still supposed to be a secret, but Anne Maitland's pregnant."

Cassie made a face that made it clear that she didn't believe him. "You sure about that?"

Tony shrugged. "Not really. It's what Ziva said."

"How does Ziva know?"

Tony searched his memory. "Um, I think they did kickboxing together until recently. She said Anne was going to take a break for a while."

"So you think that means she's pregnant?"

Tony held up a defensive hand. "No, _I _did not arrive at that conclusion. Ziva did. Maybe her…women's intuition was tingling."

Cassie didn't look convinced, but didn't appear to be interested in pushing it further. "We'll see," she said, and then stood up and rolled McGee's chair back to his desk. Then she stood by Tony's desk, and looked down at him with a flirty little smirk.

"You heading off?" he asked.

Cassie nodded. "Yeah," she said, and paused for a moment. "So, you're not dating her?"

"No," he said softly.

Her flirty smile got a little wider. "In that case, you want to go for a drink? My place is pretty close."

He hadn't really been expecting it, and he was clear on the fact that she wasn't actually talking about having a drink. She'd used the line on him before, a long, long time ago, and he'd ended up spending the night in her bed (and on her floor, and her couch, and in her kitchen). But tonight, he just smiled and shook his head.

"Thanks, Cass. But I'm a good boy now."

Cassie screwed up her nose, but got over the rejection in the next heartbeat. "That's a shame," she sighed. "I'll see you later."

He watched her head off towards the elevator, and an idea popped into his head. He called her back. "Hey, Cass? You like books and stuff, right?"

Cassie turned around again, and wandered back towards him with a bemused look. "Yes. I like both books _and_ stuff."

Tony acknowledged the ribbing with a brief smirk. "How do you feel about online role paying games?"

Her smile dropped to a deep frown of suspicion. "What?"

Tony jerked his thumb in the direction of McGee's desk. "I was just thinking that you might share some interests with McGee."

She walked right up to his desk, and cocked her head to the side like she wasn't sure she was hearing him right. "Tim McGee?"

Tony nodded, and then looked around for witnesses to what he was about to do. "Yeah. He's a good guy."

Cass looked over at McGee's desk, as if appraising his phantom image. "Really?"

"Sure. He's really smart, he's polite, he's considerate, and he has, like, those feelings things that you're interested in." He paused while Cassie chuckled, and he smiled. "Okay, he's a bit socially awkward but that's just part of his charm."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. What, you don't think he's cute?" he challenged.

Cassie raised an eyebrow. "Do _you_ think he's cute?"

Tony played uptight and firmly shook his head. "I'm not comfortable with that question."

She rolled her eyes, and then looked back to McGee's desk as she weighed it up. "I suppose he doesn't put out the vibe of being a complete dick."

_Progress,_ Tony thought. "You should ask him out."

Cassie eyed him. "You mean ask him out, or _ask him out_?" She gestured between the two of them, referring to the way she'd just asked Tony 'out'.

Tony shook his head. "No, I mean just ask him out."

"You don't think he'd be interested in just _going out_?"

Tony looked at her ruefully. "I think he's got higher morals than you or I do."

Cassie lifted her arms and dropped them quickly, exasperated. "Yeah, that's what I'm looking for. Someone to pass judgment on me."

"Tim's not like that," he assured her. "He's a really good guy. I mean it."

"So why are you always giving him crap?" Cassie pointed out.

Geez, why was everyone bugging him about that lately? "Someone's got to haze him," Tony explained patiently. "You think it'd be better if Gibbs did it?"

"You're _still_ hazing him?" Cassie asked. "He's been here as long as me."

Tony nodded along. "Right, and only twice has he ever thrown a punch at me. How's that for patience and manners?"

Cassie shrugged her understanding. "_I've_ tried to punch you more than that."

"I know, right?" Tony said, sure he was on the verge of a breakthrough. "Ask him out. You can bond over how punchable I am."

Cassie 'hmm'ed and started wandering away again. "I'll think about it, Tony."

"Okay, but don't tell him I said something nice about him," Tony called after her. "It's that image thing again."

"Got it, Tony," Cassie called back. "Hey, don't forget to go to Starbucks on your way in tomorrow and get Ziva a frappucino with whipped cream, okay?"

Tony broke into a full smile at the dig about his love life, and sang back his response. "Shut up!"

He heard the ding of the elevator, and his smile slowly dropped. Ziva couldn't really be considering a move out to LA, could she? She'd told him point blank after the engagement party that she wanted to give a relationship with him a try. She'd said that. He hadn't led her into the admission, and he had been sure that she'd been serious. _He_ had certainly been serious when he told her it was what he wanted as well, and she had to know that. So why would she tell him something like that, and then talk to Vance just a few weeks later about packing up and leaving?

His eyes went to her desk, and he stared at her empty chair as he tried to imagine her explanation.

_Tony,_ she would say with that tone of hers that suggested she was caught between exasperation, irritation and amusement. _It is not a big deal. I will be back whenever I have a weekend free, and we can have sex, yes?_

"But you're not Paula," he mumbled aloud. The 'make plans to hook up when we're both in town' thing worked with Paula Cassidy years ago, but only barely. And it was _not_ the relationship he wanted with Ziva.

A bubble of panic formed in his stomach, but he told himself to stop it. Surely she would tell him if she was planning on moving. If not because of their fledgling relationship, then certainly because he was her partner. And hey, maybe Agent Bateman had misunderstood the conversation he'd overheard between Vance and Ziva. Or maybe Bateman had been completely wrong about what she'd been doing with Vance in MTAC. How the hell did Bateman know they were talking to Callen about a position? The guy barely had the clearance to get inside...

But his girlfriend did, Tony realized. He'd saw Bateman cozying up to one of the MTAC techs—Lauren, Tony thought her name was—pretty frequently at lunch. MTAC plebes weren't supposed to breathe a word of what went on inside The Fortress to anyone, but it wasn't outside the realm of possibility to think that if the subject matter didn't concern matters of national security, then people would gossip.

So, fine. There _was_ a way that Bateman could know what Ziva and Vance had been talking about. But that didn't mean that she really was taking up the position.

Tony glanced at the clock on his computer and thought about paying her a visit to find out her side of the story. It was closing in on midnight, and although he'd certainly turned up at her place just as late or later in the past, tonight he wasn't willing to try it. In his current mood, and with the Jill and Philadelphia thing still hanging in the air, he could see the discussion quickly dissolving into another fight, and he really wanted to avoid that tonight. He was too tired, and honestly, he was scared of what her answer would be.

He'd deal with it tomorrow.

* * *

When he got out of bed the next morning, Tony had wished that he'd tackled it the night before. The possibility of her leaving, not because she _had_ to but because she _wanted_ to, had played on his mind all night, and he'd barely gotten any sleep. The late hour and his thinning patience for all the uncertainty and sniping between them had conspired to destroy his common sense, and he'd spent the night feeling sick to his stomach and pining for the days when he didn't have the emotional maturity to attach his happiness to somebody else's presence.

He'd beaten her to work—beaten everyone to work, in fact—and had passed the time waiting for her arrival by focusing on the reports he'd been unable to keep concentrating on after Cassie left. His plan was to talk to her about it in his adult voice and have it all sorted out before the others got in. But the universe conspired against him, and the next person to stride through the bullpen had been McGee. Ziva hadn't shown up until almost 0730—late by anyone's standards—and she'd been too busy trying to look busy under Gibbs' glaring eyes for Tony to attempt much more than a comment about her report.

Tony figured that she knew something was up. She kept shooting him curious looks over pursed lips, and he could feel the fake in every smile he shot back in response. He considered sending her an IM, but decided it was probably poor form to have the discussion electronically. Finally, he decided to chance the Gibbs of Wrath, and pushed back his chair.

She looked up as he approached her desk, but when he stood in front of her and jerked his head in the universal symbol for _come with me_, all he got was her Error 404 – File Not Found expression in return. He tried jerking his head again, much more obviously this time, but it just made her frown harder.

"Are you all right?' she asked.

Tony opened his mouth, but it was Gibbs who spoke.

"He wants you to go with him, Ziva," Gibbs said, his tone verging on impatient.

Tony hadn't been aware the Gibbs had even looked in their direction, but he appreciated the help all the same and supposed it meant that he wasn't going to yell if they disappeared for five minutes.

"Thank you, boss," Tony said, and jerked his head at Ziva one more time. Realization settled on her features, and she pushed her chair back. As soon as she stepped out from behind her desk, Tony took her gently by the elbow and guided her across the floor.

"What are you doing?" she asked softly.

"I gotta talk to you," he non-answered, and then steered her into the ladies' bathroom.

Special Agent Michaels, one of Tony's least favorite people, was standing in front of the mirror, fixing her hair when they barged in. Her eyes flicked over to see who had joined her and then rolled at the sight of Tony.

"Use the copy room," she told them. "It locks from the inside."

Tony let go of Ziva's arm and checked the rest of the stalls. Finding them empty, he replied, "Yeah, I know. But I'm gonna need a lot more room."

Michaels sighed and smoothed her ponytail. "Get out, Tony."

"I need an office for ten minutes," he told her, meeting her eyes in the mirror. "You're done anyway."

Michaels spun and put her hand on her hip. "Use the men's room! You two _always_ use the men's room."

Tony chose not to dwell on how frequently Ziva must have been impinging on his privacy these days if the rest of the office was aware of it. Instead, he stood his ground. "The lighting's much better in here," he replied.

With another sigh, Michaels pushed off the counter and passed between them. Tony was sure she mouthed something to Ziva as she went, but he couldn't tell what it was and he didn't much care. He locked the door behind her and then took up position where Michaels had been, back to the mirror and hands gripping the sink. Ziva slouched against the wall across from him, and then raised her eyebrows, inviting him to explain himself.

"There's this rumor," he began, getting right to the point. "And I don't like repeating gossip about my friends, but I'm going to come right out and say that this one's killing me. And if it's true..." He had to stop when his throat unexpectedly squeezed shut.

Ziva's expression turned slightly more concerned as it became clear that there was something serious on his mind. But she couldn't read said mind, so she had to wait it out.

Tony's eyes went to the floor as he sighed and reminded himself about being a grown up. "Someone heard you talking to Vance about needing to find a house in LA in a hurry. They say it's because you had a meeting in MTAC with Vance and Callen about a position over there."

He watched her carefully for her response, which involved a huffed sigh and the crossing of her arms over her chest. Tony wasn't exactly sure what that meant.

"Did Callen ask you to work for him?" he asked, point blank.

"Yes," Ziva replied easily.

Tony blinked at her. He'd been hoping it was a misunderstanding, but…it wasn't. He started loosing feeling in the lower half of his body as the possible ramifications of that started building in his head.

"Oh," he managed to reply. He would have said more, but it was hard to talk after a sucker punch like that.

Ziva pushed herself off the wall and took two steps towards him. "Vance asked me to go," she added.

"Oh," murmured again. That was…worse. Much worse. He blinked as the back of his eyes started to burn, and then tightened his jaw as he called on his training for dealing with a nightmare crime scene. _Distance yourself, push it down, deal with it later._

He met her eyes again, just in time to see the shift in them. Gone was Factual Ziva and in her place was Emotive Ziva. She took another step towards him and lowered her voice to the tone they used for private conversations.

"He came to me last week and suggested that if I missed undercover work, then I would be well suited to Special Ops," she explained.

"Because you're not suited to the work you do now?" he shot back, not managing to keep the fight out of his tone. He wasn't angry at _her_, exactly. But she was standing in front of him, and Vance and Callen weren't.

Ziva took a step back and crossed her arms again, objecting to the blame in his tone. "They asked me," she spelt out. "I did not request the meeting. Callen told Vance he needed another team member, and Vance requested that the meeting take place. I agreed to it because I felt that I could not be so stubborn after he had vouched for me on my citizenship application. _And_ because there was an actual operation that Callen was working on that I was able to provide some professional assistance on. That was the point of the meeting in the first place. We did not use MTAC for a job interview."

Tony crossed his arms as well. That all made sense, but he still didn't have a clue what she'd said, or how many people knew about this. He felt jealousy tugging at his tongue, and before he could stop himself he threw his suspicions into the ring.

"I suppose you filled Gibbs in on the whole thing."

Ziva's eyes narrowed. "If he knows, it is not because I told him," she replied tightly. "I was not planning on telling any of you."

Tony barked out a laugh. "Um, we might have noticed when you stopped turning up for work."

She frowned, and then took a big step forward, right up to him, causing Tony's arms to fall to grip the sink again. "Did you hear me say that I accepted the offer, Tony?"

He paused as he ran the last five minutes back through his head. She hadn't, but he'd assumed. Damn it, she _hated_ it when he assumed things about her. "No."

He watched her jaw clench and something akin in betrayal flash in her eyes. "But you think I would? Right now, you think I would give up on _this_ and make the choice to leave?"

It was a small relief that she'd picked up on what was bugging him so much, but he was still stinging with the exclusion from her private life. He pushed past her and paced the small room.

"I don't know," he threw. "You didn't tell me about the little tête-à-tête, so I don't actually know what the hell to think."

"Tony," she began warningly, and he recognized the tone as the one she used when she was _this close_ to losing her temper. But he was pretty close as well, and after the last few months (years) of her messing up his head and playing with his emotions like she had, he didn't possess the energy to stamp it down anymore.

"If you're not going, why didn't you just tell me about it?" he asked, throwing his hands up like it should have been obvious.

"Why do I have to?" she shot back, voice rising. "I did not seriously consider it, Tony. I knew I was going to say no."

"It would have been nice to know what's going on," he replied, condescendingly.

And that was enough to officially start the fight.

"Nothing is going on!" Ziva cried.

"Then tell me that!" Tony said. "Say, 'Hey, the weirdest thing happened today. Vance asked me to move to LA, but I told him no'."

"Why?" she argued. "Why do you need to know every tiny detail of my life?"

"Every _tiny_ detail? Like you moving over the other side of the goddamn country?" he asked, incredulous. "Excuse me for thinking that might be something you should let your partner know about."

"But I'm not moving!" she yelled, almost stamping her foot with indignance.

"Well, I didn't know that!" he yelled back.

She advanced on him again and pointed a finger in his face. "You shouldn't have known any of it."

Tony clutched his chest in mock mortification. "Oh, I'm sorry that I stumbled across your big fat lie."

"Lie? What lie? I didn't say _anything_ to you," she pointed out. "And when you just asked me about it, I was honest with you."

"It was a lie of omission," he shot back, starting to circle her now.

"Omission?" Her shoulders slumped on a sigh. "Tony, is this how it will be? You will want me to tell you about who I talk to every day, and what we talk about?"

He knew she was referring to their relationship, and the idea of that level of control between them made his chest stab. "No—"

But Ziva was already rushing forward with her quick adaptation of her day. "The woman at the coffee shop asked me if I was having a good day. I told her I was, even though it hasn't been anything out of the ordinary, so I suppose I lied to her. Then I talked to the security guard about his vacation to Florida last week, and he said—"

Tony stepped into her space. "Hey! Do not accuse me of being some controlling ass—"

"But it is what you are doing!" she yelled, clenching her fists.

"It's not, and you know it! Filling me in when someone asks you to move coasts would be appreciated," he spelt out. "Even if you don't seriously consider the offer. It displays that you have some measure of trust and consideration for me."

Ziva's mouth fell open, and her cheeks flushed with anger. "Don't you dare! Don't you _dare_ question me on that, Tony! I am changing my citizenship!"

Tony shot her a clueless frown. "What the hell has that got to do with anything?"

He expected her to yell back straight away, as was the rhythm of the argument they'd set. But when she stopped moving entirely and just gaped at him in reply, Tony took notice. He frowned at the reaction, not understanding what he'd missed, and then panic set in when he watched tears form in her eyes. Jesus, he'd really hurt her. He wracked his brains as he tried to work out why that comment had pierced more than the others. When he finally worked it out the realization was like punch to the guts that brought tears to his own eyes.

"Wait, what?" he said, the anger completely gone from his voice. "No, that wasn't about me. That was because you wanted out of Mossad."

It was all it took to make her face crumble, and she immediately turned her back on him and made for the door. Tony's heart slammed in his chest as he worked out what just happened, what she'd just admitted to, and he lurched forward to grab her arm just as she'd unlocked the door.

"No, Ziva, wait."

He wasn't prepared when she spun and shoved him back.

"Don't touch me!" she yelled, just as Gibbs swung open the ladies room door. "I don't want to look at you, I don't want to talk to you right now!"

"Ziva," he began, but Gibbs butted in.

"Find a way, David," he said sternly. "We've got a crime scene. Both of you, get your gear and get your butts down to the truck."

Ziva's response was something harsh and in another language, but she seemed more than happy to stomp out of the bathroom as fast as she could. Tony followed at a slower pace as he ran his hand through his hair and tried to pick up the pieces of his blown mind.

"You two—" Gibbs started, but it was Tony's turn to butt in on him.

"No," he shot back, one finger raised in a serious warning to stay out of it.

But Gibbs didn't heed the caution. "Tony," he started again, and Tony lost it.

"_I said no!_" he yelled, barely noticing as McGee approached. "I'm sorry, but I _really_ don't want to hear a goddamn thing you have to say about it right now." He didn't wait for a response. He just turned and stormed off in the direction Ziva had gone, leaving Gibbs and a bewildered McGee in his wake.

Gibbs sighed to himself. He didn't know exactly what they were fighting about, but he got the gist of it. He considered turning to McGee and labeling the scene as _Rule 12: Exhibit A_. But instead, he went for something in the domain of compassion and didn't say a word.

**

* * *

Ooh, angsty one! Ziva's totally going to move to LA now, you guys. (Oh, she is not.)  
Thanks again to Snoops, and Happy Straya Day to youse all.**


	9. Part 9: The Explanation

**A/N: Okay, after all the fighting let's just take a deep breath and calm down. I'm **_**really**_** nervous about how this chapter's going to go down, hence the long author note at the end.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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* * *

**

**Part 9: The Explanation**

When Ziva finally got into bed that night, she was tired to the bone. If the emotionally draining fight with Tony hadn't been enough, the scene they'd gone to had sapped the rest of her energy. Seven hours spent combing a rural area for evidence while the rain poured down and the humidity made her skin itch. Seven hours of painfully professional conduct between herself and Tony, and another two hours of chasing background information on their victim.

When she'd walked through her apartment door shortly after midnight, she had plans to immediately climb into bed and sleep the bad day off. But despite her exhaustion, Ziva couldn't sleep. The fight was running over and over in her head, making her feel sick to her stomach. It bothered her greatly that Tony thought she would actually consider the move, but she was more upset by the way they'd decided to handle the problem. A little bit of sniping here and there was par for the course for them, but the overly emotional yelling they'd been indulging in lately made her despair for their chances of making it together.

She'd asked him this afternoon, and she was still wondering now: was this the way it was going to be? Did a relationship between them mean screaming irrationally at each other every few days? Ziva didn't want that. She doubted Tony did either, but what good was that when they both seemed incapable of talking about things like calm, rational adults?

She rubbed a frustrated hand over her face in an effort to bring her level head to the situation. Yes, she and Tony had always sparred, but she didn't honestly believe that today was an accurate representation of what their life together would be like. She was just letting her emotions get the better of her because she was nervous about her application. She would have liked to go down to the INS and start screaming at _them_, but because she couldn't do that, she was taking her frustration out on the biggest and easiest target.

She rolled onto her side and aimed her frown at the wall. That wasn't a good enough excuse for her behavior. Starting tomorrow, she would make every effort to stop picking fights. If she really was destined to leave the country and Tony with it, she did not want their final memories of each other to be of screaming at each other in bathrooms over who hurt whom more.

She started to think of a plan for how they might avoid fighting in the short term, but didn't come up with an answer before she was startled by the sound of the locks in her front door tumbling. She automatically reached for her gun tucked between the bed and the nightstand, and had her hand around it by the time she heard the door open. She started slowly drawing the weapon towards her as she followed the movement through her apartment, but after the first three steps, she relaxed. The gun was back in its hiding place before she heard Tony pause in the doorway behind her.

"Don't shoot, it's just me," he said. She doubted that he could see her gun, but had rightly assumed that she would reach for it.

"I know," she replied softly. "I know your walk. I know the weight of your steps. I know your presence. I know your smell." She stopped herself before her overly-emotional mouth embarrassed her further. "I knew it was you."

He didn't respond, and Ziva fought her raging curiosity to turn over and see what was playing over his face as he stood there in the dark. It was ridiculous, but she was still mad with him for doubting her and she wanted him to recognize the fact. Somehow, in her incredibly grown up head, turning over seemed like extending the olive branch, and she wanted that to come from him.

It felt like minutes before she finally heard him move. She'd half expected him to make for the front door, but instead she heard shoes dropping to the floor, fabric rubbing against fabric and the creak in the floorboards as he approached the bed. A moment later, the blanket lifted and the mattress dipped behind her, and then Tony's chest was pressed against her back and a heavy arm came around her waist. His other hand brushed her hair out of the way of his face, and her body gave an involuntary shudder at the feeling of his warm breath on the back of her neck.

Even factoring in their half-naked grope-fests of late, the move seemed like a bold one to Ziva. She was still getting used to him using his keys to come into her house unannounced (to be fair, she was the one who told him to do it when she couldn't be bothered getting up for him anymore), and while she didn't have a problem sharing her bed with him, his move seemed so confident and forward, especially after a day full of backwards. Five years ago she would have driven her elbow into his ribs, and then smiled at his yelp of pain. But tonight, she swallowed back tears and only put up a token fight.

"Don't," she said softly.

Tony's response was to tighten his arm around her waist, and rest his forehead against the back of her neck.

She sighed to herself. Typical Tony. "Why do you always have to fight with me?" she grumbled.

He barely lifted his head. "It's fun," he replied against her neck.

She thought of how it felt to be screaming at each other in the bathroom today. "No, it's not," she gently argued.

She felt his chest expand against her as he drew a deep breath, and then sighed heavily. "No. It's not," he agreed.

Silence fell over them for a few moments, as each tried to word their apologies. Tony got there first.

"I'm really sorry about today."

It was all the olive branch Ziva needed, and she was quick to turn her head back to try to look at him. "No, I am. I shouldn't have been so snappy and bitchy."

"I shouldn't have kept pushing it," he insisted. "I'm just on edge about…everything. I'm trying to tell myself not to panic, but I keep getting caught up in it."

Ziva covered his hand on her stomach. "I am too. Realistically, it has been a while since my interview and test and I am…concerned," she finished, playing the reality of what she felt way, way down.

He snuggled in even further against her, and cleared his throat before putting on his cheerleader outfit again. "I don't think that it's been any longer than a regular case." He didn't have a clue whether that was the truth, but Ziva didn't argue the point and so he didn't have to add it to his already extensive list of things to worry about.

"I would have talked to you first," she suddenly said.

"Hmm?"

"If I had considered Vance's offer," she clarified. "I would have talked to you before making a final decision. I was not keeping it from you because I didn't trust you or don't care for you. I just thought it didn't matter because I was always going to say no."

He sighed and pressed his forehead against her neck again. "Okay. I didn't really mean what I said. I was upset."

"Yes," she said softly. "We really need to not yell at each other about things."

"Agreed," he said quickly.

"At least until I have to leave."

His arm got tighter again, and he slid a leg between hers. "You're not going," he said firmly.

"I know," she said, indulging him for a moment before bringing reality back into it. "But if I do, I have been thinking that I might go to Argentina. Spend some time with my mother. I have not seen her in a long time."

Tony had been expecting as much, and it wasn't as though he wasn't madly coming up with contingency plans. But still, the fact that she was preparing for the worst made him glare at the back of her head. He swallowed the fight down, and instead decided it was time to take a huge gamble.

"Yeah. And my Spanish is better than my Hebrew."

The comment hung in the air for just long enough to make him wince, and then Ziva forced a chuckle.

"You would come?" she asked, her tone suggesting that she thought the idea was vaguely ridiculous.

Tony ignored the overwhelming urge to backpedal, and forged ahead. "We're a team, right?"

Ziva misunderstood. "What? You would expect the _whole team_ to come?"

He shook his head, and his lips brushed against the back of her neck. "No."

He could almost hear the gears in her head turning, and when she finally understood what he was trying to say, he swore he could feel her heart start racing rabbit fast through her back.

"You would not give up everything you have here, Tony," she said, and he knew that she was giving him a final chance to change his mind.

But Tony had already been thinking about it for weeks, and he'd made his decision. Today's argument had only made him more certain. If she was going to move to LA, or Argentina, or frickin' New Zealand, he'd be booking a ticket as well.

"Yeah, I would," he told her. "If you wanted."

Ziva froze. He was serious. He was _really_ serious.

"Maybe it's fair," he said softly, his confidence faltering slightly when she didn't respond. "You've done five years here with me, so I can do five years in Argentina with you."

The meaning sank in, and Ziva drew in a painful breath. She'd felt so exposed and stupid earlier in the day when it seemed as though he hadn't understood that he was a huge part of the reason she was changing her citizenship. She'd wondered if maybe she'd overestimated how close they were getting to each other, or if she'd wrongly assumed that when they talked about 'wanting this', he meant he was committed to the long term. But if he was now saying that he'd move countries for her as she would for him...maybe he _was_ as serious as she'd initially believed.

Her heart physically hurt from relief and with how much she wanted him, and she rolled over to face him. He seemed hesitant, as though he wasn't sure whether his admission would be welcomed or rejected, but the way his hand tightened on her hip spoke to his hope that she wouldn't leave him hanging. She didn't know what to say that wouldn't involve big-ticket admissions of love that they weren't ready for, and so instead she just kissed him.

It had been weeks since the last time he'd touched her, and Tony found it impossible not to indulge in the contact. He kissed her back and ran his hand up her side and into her hair, not caring that he didn't have a clear idea of what she thought of his plan. She pulled back too soon for his liking, but the brief kiss still gave him hope that she wasn't going to laugh in his face.

"So, that's a yes?" he hedged.

Her thumb brushed back and forth over his bottom lip. "I don't want it to come to that," she told him honestly.

"Neither do I," he said, shaking his head. "But you've got to have a plan, right? I have a few others."

The corner of her mouth turned up at the admission. Of course he did. "I do not want you to resent me when you start missing your friends and American TV and your car."

Tony's smile slid away, and the hope in his eyes dimmed as he misunderstood what she was saying. "So…it's a no?"

The look cut her, and Ziva quickly shook her head and leaned down to press a reassuring kiss to his lips. "No, it's a yes," she said, surprised by how utterly confident she felt that it was what she wanted. "But I just hope that we will not have to make that choice."

Tony nodded in agreement, but he couldn't help smiling at what she'd just agreed to. She wanted him to go with her. She really was serious about him. She quite possibly loved him at least half as much as he loved her. At least enough to go along with a plan that would keep them together.

He breathed out in relief and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her closer. He lifted his head to seek another kiss—a longer one that would scratch some of the itch he felt all the way down to his bones to touch her—and this time, Ziva indulged him. In fact, it was Ziva who deepened the kiss, pressing her tongue into his mouth and rocking her hips against his thigh. Tony's hands slid over her in approval, one running up her back to burrow into her hair, and the other sliding down to grip her ass. Ziva moaned into his mouth as lust pushed aside love, and she gently nipped his lip and bucked her hips against him again.

Tony's brain started devolving into the lust fuzz that was becoming so familiar to him whenever he was around her these days, and when her hand started a path down his naked chest to his boxers, he almost didn't hear the warning bells. The touch felt so natural, so right, that his head was almost as convinced as his body that there was no reason to stop this. But they had agreed that there was, and he stopped her exploration of his body by flipping them over just as her fingertips dipped inside his waistband.

Underneath him now, Ziva looked up at him with dark, wanting eyes, and squeezed her thighs deliciously around his hips. Tony closed his eyes and dropped his head in near defeat, but he dug deep for restraint and shook his head.

"I already hate myself for saying this," he pressed out through tight lips.

Ziva read his mind, and responded by throwing her head back against the pillow and letting out a loud, frustrated groan. Tony agreed with her assessment of the situation, even more so when he opened his eyes to find her neck arched oh-so-invitingly just millimeters under his mouth. His lips parted in preparation to kiss and lick his way over her smooth, golden skin, but the warning bells sounded again and he had to heed their message.

Drawing all his resolve, Tony rolled off her and flopped onto his back. He grabbed one of her pillows and drew it over his face, curling his fists into the fibers as he fought the urge to scream. He heard a muffled moan coming from Ziva, and shoved his face further into the pillow when the urge to just give in already fired through his body.

"This is stupid!" she almost yelled. "What is the point in fighting if there is no make up sex?"

Tony thought she had a great point, but decided it was safer if he didn't voice his agreement. He was already finding it almost impossible to remember why they were waiting, especially since they'd basically just agreed that even if she had to leave, he'd be leaving with her.

For a few moments the two of them lay silently together, breathing heavily and finding the control that would get them through another night. Finally, Tony tossed his pillow at the end of the bed, and then threw back the covers.

"Okay. I've got a really great way to break the mood."

Ziva rolled to her side with a deep sigh, and propped herself up on her elbow. She watched him go to his jacket and search the pocket before taking her laptop from the table under the window. He brought it back to bed and sat against the headboard as he lifted the lid and turned it on.

"Movie?" she guessed.

He smiled at her assumption, but shook his head. "No. I just think it's time I told you about what happened in Philly. Especially after my minor tantrum today about transparency."

"Minor?" she echoed, as she pushed herself up into a sitting position.

His eyes flicked to hers, but he didn't admit to anything more. He stuck the USB drive he'd retrieved from his jacket into the laptop, and then put it aside until he was ready to show her the files.

For just a moment, he hesitated as his heart started thudding and his arms went a little weak with panic. He wondered if he could really do this now, but he trusted her. After today's fight, he really had to show her that.

He met her eyes and began with forced levity. "I know you're going to find this hard to believe, but there was a girl involved."

Ziva gave him the small smile he was looking for to help ease his obvious nerves, but under the surface, her thoughts went in one, scary direction. _Oh my God, he's married. Or _was_ married. She died. He has kids. His _kids_ died._

"Her name was Jill, and I started seeing her about a year after I moved to Philly," he said. "She was pretty amazing. Really smart, outgoing, beautiful. She was one of those people who seemed to have everything going for her and was just on the brink of doing something really great, you know?"

Ziva nodded, even though she didn't know. She'd never met a person like that in her life.

"We were together for about ten months," he said, nodding along like he was just getting the story right in his head. "And everything was fine until she started talking about marriage and kids and all that committed-to-the-end-of-your-life stuff. I probably shouldn't have been surprised, but honestly, I was. I mean, that wasn't where my head was at. I liked her a lot, but marrying her hadn't even crossed my mind. I still felt like a kid and I just wasn't ready for all that."

He paused to gauge her reaction to that, perhaps expecting an eye roll or a comment about predictability. But Ziva just nodded like it made perfect sense and didn't aim a single judgmental look his way.

"Instead of ignoring it like I wanted to, I decided to be up front with her," he went on. "I told her that I really liked her, but that I wasn't close to thinking about all that. It wasn't what I was looking for in the relationship." He paused as Ziva briefly winced, and he decided she'd probably guessed how that had gone down. He told her anyway. "Jill was...upset. And look, I don't blame her for that at all. She thought we were going down one path and I thought we were going down another, and it was a big shock for both of us to find out that we were 180 degrees away from each other."

He dropped Ziva's gaze and swallowed as he got to the business end. "So, we fought," he started simply. "We had a fight that went on _forever_. Half the day, into the night, screaming at the top of our voices at each other." He shook his head, still barely believing it himself. "I have never yelled like that. I've never been yelled _at_ like that. I threw names at her, she threw furniture at me. It was just...bad."

He glanced at Ziva as she opened her mouth to comment, and he recognized the look in her eye as the one she got right before she got angry. He held up his hand to stop her.

"Don't," he implored. "I know what you're going to say, and I completely agree. But it just doesn't matter now, okay?"

Ziva made an unimpressed face, but pulled the sting from her words. "Upset is fine, but throwing furniture is—"

"I know," he repeated. "But it's done. Can't be changed."

Ziva closed her mouth and dipped her head, letting it go for the time being.

"We didn't talk again for a couple of days," he continued. "Then she turned up and apologized, and said that she wanted to work it out. She said she could wait until I was ready, but honestly, I didn't want anything to do with her anymore. We'd been so ugly with each other, and I knew that although she'd said she'd wait, she'd start getting impatient after a couple of months. So I told her I was done and I wasn't going to change my mind. That triggered another screaming match that ended when she threw a vase at my head, and I told her I would arrest her if she didn't leave."

He reached for the laptop, and used searching for the files he was after as an excuse to avoid looking at Ziva. He could feel his heart beat really starting to pick up the pace now as he drew closer to the hardest part to relate, and the back of his throat ached with tears that were trying to make it to the surface. He found them easier to control if he didn't have to look the woman who probably loved him more than anyone else in his life in the eye.

He cleared his throat and continued. "She kept calling me after that, kept saying that we should work it out. I avoided her as much as possible, tried not to engage with her, refused to see her." He shrugged. "I was probably making it worse, and I definitely didn't want to talk to her about it anymore. But I also kind of thought that being really clear about it was the best thing to do."

Ziva watched him in profile as his jaw tightened and his features settled into a dead serious expression. The air around them seemed to grow heavier, and her stomach knotted as she braced for whatever awful thing he was about to tell her.

"So, eventually she stopped calling and coming to see me," he said, his voice suddenly weaker. "I thought that meant she was getting over it. Then about two months later I was leaving a bar one night after having some drinks with some buddies. I lived in the other direction from them so I started walking home by myself." He paused to clear his throat before his voice could falter. "I still don't remember any of what happened after leaving the bar. I just know that I woke up two days later in the hospital."

"What?" Ziva breathed, and Tony took a deep breath for courage before he turned the laptop screen to her. He watched as her eyes settled on a photo of a man Tony barely recognized, his face swollen and black, and his body covered in casts and bandages. Ziva gasped as her hand fell onto his knee, and she looked up at him with tears in her eyes.

Tony attempted a smile. "It's not my best angle."

Ziva cursed in her native language as her eyes fell back to the screen, and Tony brought up another photo of the same scene, but from the other side.

"These were the police photos taken right after I left the OR," he said. "Three guys had dragged me into an alley near the bar and beat the crap out of me with their fists and feet and some very handy iron bars."

"Oh my God," Ziva murmured, and tightened her grip on his leg.

Tony flipped through a few more photos until he got to some where the swelling had gone down in his face and he was actually able to smile at the camera. "Two broken ribs, a broken tibia, broken nose, severe concussion, shattered eye socket, ruptured spleen and a broken ankle. I was in hospital for three weeks. Rehab and desk duty for months."

Ziva's mouth fell open at the carnage. Although she knew that he was alive and fully recovered, the evidence of what had happened still made her heart thump in panic and tears prick her eyes, as if it were all happening to him now.

"My precinct caught the guys who did it pretty fast," he said, keen to move on from that part of the story. "One of my buddies on the force knew about the break up from hell, and they'd brought Jill in for questioning before I'd even woken up. Apparently her brother had paid these guys a grand each to work me over." He shook his head and joked, "Only a grand. That still stings, you know?"

Ziva's response was to shoot him a look that accused him of bad taste. It rolled off his back, and he brought up five mug shots.

"Fast forward a couple of months and Jill, her brother and the three guys were all convicted. She got ten years, her brother got twelve, and the guys who did it got ten." He stared at Jill's mug shot on the screen and found that even after all this time, the sight of her made him nauseous. He looked away quickly. "She was released after seven years for good behavior."

Ziva's eyebrows went up at the idea of someone involved in the beating of a cop being released after seven years, but she said nothing. She settled her eyes on the photo of Jill, a woman in her mid-twenties with flowing brown hair framing an almost ridiculously beautiful face. But she wasn't smiling like the model she could have been. In this shot her lips were in a tight line, and her eyes were full of shame and terror. Ziva glared at the photo in disgust as she committed the face to memory.

Tony saw the look and knew it meant that Ziva was adding Jill to her personal Shit List. He wondered if maybe he shouldn't have told her as much as he had. But unlike Abby, for whom he'd glossed over many of the details and almost all of the beating because there had been no reason to share them, Ziva deserved to hear the whole thing. And so, he gave her the final piece.

"She tried to contact me after she was released to apologize, but I'm adamant that I'm not going to engage with her in any way. I have a protection order against her, which I've already extended once. It's due to expire…" he paused to do the math, "pretty soon, actually. I don't know if I'll extend it again."

Ziva nodded, as if taking it in her stride, but the movement was just buying her time until she could get her anger under control. Finally, she tossed a casual question his way. "So, where does she live now?"

Tony met her gaze, and it was immediately obvious that he knew why she'd asked. "I don't know," he lied, and then put his hand on hers. "Ziva, part of me not engaging with her involves _you_ not engaging with her."

Ziva's eyes left his to stare down at Jill's photo again.

"I'm telling you because I need you to know what happened," he said, using the voice that she usually didn't argue with. "It's obviously a pretty big thing that happened to me, and I need you to know about those big things. It's also likely that she might try to contact me again when the protection order expires. Or this might all come up again when her brother's up for release next year."

"He didn't get paroled?" she asked.

Tony shook his head. "No, I argued against it."

"You didn't argue against _her_ early release?" Ziva asked, failing to see the logic.

Tony's eyebrow quickly rose and fell again, and his stomach tightened. "No, I was undercover at the time. There was a feeling that it could blow my cover."

Ziva eyed him, his phrasing raising her suspicions. "A feeling from whom?"

Tony sighed heavily, but told her what she'd already worked out. "I discussed it with Jenny."

Ziva literally bit her tongue, and her eyes went to the ceiling as she searched for calm. "Wow," she finally said. "She really didn't care about anything but La Grenouille."

"Ziva, it's over and done with," he said tiredly.

She blew out a derisive laugh and shook her head. "How can you be so Zen about this?"

"Because I've had more than five minutes to think about it," he pointed out. He closed the laptop and stretched to put it on her nightstand. "Listen, I need you to promise me that you're not going to do what I know you're thinking of doing right now. I get that it's new information for you, and you want to act on it. But it's in the past. I do not want it to be part of my life now. Okay?"

Ziva would have very much liked to argue the point, but he was leaving no room for misunderstanding. He was telling her no, and he very clearly meant it. And since it was so important to him, she silenced the very angry, Mossad-trained, NCIS partner and almost-girlfriend inside her and nodded. "Okay," she said through clenched teeth.

"Thank you."

"But if I see her," she couldn't resist adding, "I will not be held responsible for my actions."

"Actually, you will," he pointed out, keen to release the steam valve in her head before it exploded. "Probably by Metro PD. And if not them, then the FBI. So just glare and then let it go. Because I don't want our relationship to end in prison."

Ziva snorted. "With you and me? That's almost inevitable."

He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "Nothing is inevitable."

Ziva shot him a gentle glare for using her own words from years ago against her, but quickly dropped it as she moved the conversation along. "This sounds like such a stupid question after so long, but are you all right?"

Tony took a few deep breaths as he seriously considered the question. "Yeah," he finally said. "I kind of thought that when I told you about it, I might burst into tears. But I didn't, so I guess that means I'm okay."

"You guess?" she pushed gently.

Tony shrugged. "It still freaks me out. It still chills me. And you and me screaming at each other like we did today makes me sick to my stomach."

Ziva sighed and closed her eyes with regret. "I'm sorry."

He held her hand. "I know. I am too." He shrugged. "I've talked about it a lot with therapists. Back then, especially. And obviously Celeste and Josh know. They spent a lot of time with me in Philly after the attack and during the trial. They all helped me deal with it. Celeste and Josh were really good to me."

"Well, they love you," Ziva pointed out.

Tony smiled. "Yeah, and I owed them a bunch of money," he joked.

Ziva smiled only because he wanted her to. "Does your father know?"

He nodded. "Yeah. But not the rest of my family. And Gibbs and McGee don't know."

Ziva's eyebrows went up. "Gibbs doesn't know?"

"No," he said, shaking his head. "I left it all in Philly. Aside from you, the only other person who knows is Abby. She found out by coincidence, and she really doesn't know that much."

She regarded him for a moment, and felt a wave of love and protectiveness. "Thank you for telling me."

He tugged her hand, preparing to torture himself with her presence one more time. "Come here."

Ziva got up onto her knees and shuffled over to him. She threw one leg over his lap and then sat on his thighs and leaned in to kiss him adoringly. Tony wrapped his arms around her and soaked up the feeling of her surrounding him. Her presence warmed him and calmed him down, and when she held his face in her hands he felt like he found his center again.

He felt relieved to have finally told her about it, and that she hadn't blamed him for any of it. In his right mind he knew that he hadn't provoked the attack and that he'd done the right thing by being honest with Jill and making it clear that the relationship was done. But it was still hard not to take on guilt over it. If he hadn't let the fights get as big as they had, or hadn't called her a bitch, or if they'd had the conversation about what they were doing five months into the relationship instead of ten, maybe Jill wouldn't have been made to feel so foolish and humiliated. Maybe she wouldn't have gone over the edge. Maybe he could have stopped it all if he'd just paid attention instead of taking the easy route. These were the things he'd been scared that Ziva would point out. Or that she would have given him a lecture about the way he treated women before kicking him out and ending it. He had no doubt that if Ziva had really felt that way, she would have told him so.

Fortunately, Ziva was a lot more level headed and compassionate than Tony's self-punishing thoughts were. Because he didn't think he'd cope too well if the woman he was determined to follow to Argentina in a gesture of his love and commitment to her turned around and told him that he'd deserved the beating.

Said woman's hands were now stroking his bare back as she kissed him. Although he'd managed not to cry during his own personal _This Is Your Life_ segment, Tony now felt his eyes burn behind his eyelids. Jesus Christ, this whole love and acceptance thing was really messing with his tough cop image. Was she always going to touch him like this when she tried to comfort him? Because if so, he was going to be in tears every freaking week.

Just before he was really about to lose it, Ziva broke the kiss and looked down at him with hooded eyes.

"We should…" she started, but couldn't make herself finish.

He swallowed hard and himself nod. "Yeah."

Her hands slid up to rest on his cheeks. "Will you stay?"

He nodded again. Usually spending the night lying next to her and not being able to run his hands all over her would be his idea of torture. But tonight he kind of just wanted her closeness and comfort. He cracked a joke to try to cover his mushiness. "Well, sure. I'm already in my pajamas."

Ziva smirked and dropped her eyes to take in his bare chest. She slid her hands from his waist up to his shoulders, and Tony was sure he caught the hint of an impure thought in her eye before she gave him a soft, fleeting kiss and rolled off him. She slid back under the covers and Tony followed her. He lay on his back with his arm out and she took the unspoken invitation to cuddle into his side. His arms went around her as her leg slipped between his, and they locked themselves in for the night.

"No fighting for the rest of the week," he suggested.

"Agreed."

"It's exhausting."

She kissed his chest. "I'd prefer you to tire me out in other ways."

Tony sighed as his sexual frustration flared, and turned his head to kiss her forehead. As soon as the INS came through for her, he intended to do just that.

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So that's Plan D and Jill covered off in one chapter.  
I wouldn't normally do this, but I'm just going to explain something because I suspect I'll get a lot of messages about wanting Ziva to now go track down Jill and go medieval on her.  
****In this story, I've been trying to present Tony and Ziva not so much as they are on the show, but as how they would be if they were real people whose personal growth isn't stymied for the dramatic effect of television. I've been trying to show them growing as a team and trying to get past things that would have screwed up their chances in the past. This is the reason for my decision to make Ziva pay more attention to what Tony's specifically requesting and needing from her instead of going full tilt ninja about it. She's putting **_**his**_** needs in front of hers because she realises it's important to him. It doesn't mean she's not fuming on the inside. The Jill thing will pop up again in this story, but I just wanted to explain myself here instead of replying separately to everyone.**


	10. Part 10: The Autopsy

**A/N: Thanks to all who reviewed the last chapter, and apologies for not responding to you. I'm a bit overwhelmed by all my projects with this fandom right now.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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**Part 10: The Autopsy**

The next morning had the team at another crime scene in the woods just a few miles from the one they'd worked the day before. There was a sense of déjà vu in the air; same surroundings; body dressed and left in a similar way, same local LEOs on scene, same medical examiner, same investigative team.

An important difference, however, was the mood shared by Tony and Ziva. While yesterday they had been painfully professional and tense as piano strings today they were relaxed, smiley and as inappropriate as ever. The dramatic change had their colleagues rubbing their necks as they tried to work out what was going on, but Gibbs would die before asking, Ducky had too much class, and McGee didn't dare bring it up while Gibbs was within ten miles of them. Only Jimmy Palmer was brave (or stupid) enough to sidle up to the pair as they stood over a set of tire tracks and broach the subject.

"So I guess you guys woke up on the right side of the bed this morning!" he chirped.

Ten feet away, McGee almost choked on the pen lid he was chewing on. Oh, he'd have to tell Abby that one.

The secret bed partners shared quick looks—Ziva's warning Tony that the ME's assistant was about to get a bitch slap, and Tony's reassuring Ziva that the comment had been harmless. Jimmy read the look on Ziva's face, and even though he didn't understand it like Tony had he got the gist of it and literally backpedaled.

"I mean, because you're in a really good mood today," he told Ziva. "You know the saying about waking up on the wrong side of the bed when you're grumpy? Like you were yesterday…"

Ziva's eyes left Jimmy's paling face to shoot a silent question at Tony. Tony nodded at her and then took over their side of the conversation.

"Agent David and I had a…lively discussion yesterday before we came to scene," Tony told him. "But we talked about it and she agreed that she was completely in the wrong, and everything's fine now."

Ziva's mouth fell open with indignation, and Tony sent her one of his most charming smiles in return. She seemed to catch on that he had been joking and closed her mouth only to narrow her eyes.

"Oh, right," Tony added. "There was also that not insignificant part where _I_ was wrong."

Ziva gave him a half smile of approval, and Tony's smile grew.

"Well, it's just good that you're both in better moods," Jimmy offered, before changing the subject. "So listen, I've got another problem I need your help with."

Tony looked at him sharply, and with warning in his eyes. If the autopsy gremlin thought that Tony would be prepared to delve into the vows of till-death-do-us-part while Ziva was standing right there, he had another thing coming. "Jimmy, I don't know if I'm really the best person to—"

"The place Breena wants to have the ceremony at is booked up for months," Jimmy said in a panicky rush. "When I called them yesterday to ask about booking for next month, they actually _laughed_ at me. I mean, was that necessary?"

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but couldn't think of a single placating word.

"Why don't you have a garden wedding?" Ziva suggested, saving Tony from having to admit that he didn't have a clue how these things worked. "Or have it in a nice park? I have been to several outdoor weddings, and they are always lovely."

Tony nodded along, pretending that she was reading his thoughts. But then he had an original one of his own. "Or have it at the same place that you're having the reception."

Ziva nodded at him encouragingly, and then looked at Jimmy. "Yes, that would be convenient. Where is the reception?"

"At Breena's grandparents' house," Jimmy said. "It's on the beach."

Ziva quickly lifted her hands and let them drop again, suggesting that the problem was solved. "Beach wedding," she said. "Very romantic."

Jimmy's eyebrows went up as he considered the idea. "Breena is keen for something more casual than what her parents are pushing for."

"What do _you_ want?" Tony felt compelled to ask. "The wedding isn't about her parents, right?"

"No," Jimmy agreed, shaking his head firmly as if he believed he had a say in the matter. "I just want things to be easy and low-stress. I'm freaking out enough already, you know? I can't wait to be married but all this other stuff is stressing me out!" He started counting problems off on his fingers. "Where we're going to have it, what I'm supposed to do, how many types of weird dietary requirements we should cater for, whether I should sing at the reception or wait until it's just her and me that night, seating arrangements that won't tempt feuding family members to fight. The only things that are under control are what I'm wearing and the vows. And the vows are only done because you basically wrote them for me," he finished, waving a hand at Tony.

Tony didn't have time to wave off his involvement as insignificant before Ziva's head snapped around to look at him. He shook his head at her wide, shocked eyes and played it _way_ down. "I didn't write them. I gave vague suggestions."

"Well they're done, anyway," Jimmy said, as Tony tried not to squirm under Ziva's gaze. "I've just got to deal with all this other stuff."

"Have it on the beach," Tony said, ignoring the feeling of Ziva's eyes boring into the side of his head. "Do whatever you're told, screw the freaks with the weird diets because you'll only encourage their attention-seeking habits if you cater for them. The singing thing is up to you, but in my family it's expected."

"Singing is expected?" Ziva echoed.

Tony nodded. "Yeah. It's kind of a tradition."

"Because Nonna was a singer," she guessed.

Tony smirked at Ziva's possessive term for _his_ grandmother, and her recall of DiNozzo family history that he only vaguely remembered sharing. He nodded. "Yeah. She used to force us kids to sing at every family gathering."

Ziva started to chuckle, a rich, deep sound that made Tony smile and want to share more despite the third wheel in attendance.

"Remember I told you my cousin Linda's a music producer?" At Ziva's nod, he continued, "She's always been into it the most. She turned it into a competitive tournament when we were teenagers. To this day, some of my other cousins get pretty passionate about it."

"Why?" Ziva asked, her smile showing she was charmed by the idea. "What is the prize?"

Tony shook his head, grinning at how much she was enjoying this. "Nothing. They just want to win."

"Were you ever involved in these tournaments?"

He shrugged, playing nonchalant. "Back when I was a teenager."

Ziva clutched her chest. "Please tell me there is video evidence of this."

There was, but he wasn't going to tell her that. "I doubt it." He looked back to Jimmy, who was grinning like he didn't understand that he'd been locked out of the conversation. "So, singing is up to you," he repeated. "And as for the relatives who don't get along, just tell them that it's your day and you won't tolerate any argument that's been going on for more than two years."

Jimmy nodded, and his wide smile suggested that he was actually listening to the advice and letting it calm him down. "Yeah. Thanks. Hey, you're coming to my bachelor party, right?"

Tony was dreading the occasion. "Wouldn't miss it," he told him.

Jimmy beamed some more, and then lumbered off across the clearing towards Ducky and their van. As soon as he was gone, Ziva lightly smacked Tony's forearm.

"What is this about you writing his vows?"

Tony sighed and winced to himself. He'd hoped he'd made her forget about that with his story about competitive singing competitions, but it appeared not. He shrugged like it was no big deal. "I didn't. I just suggested some stuff."

"Like what?"

She wasn't going to drop it, so he fed her a tiny bit more and hoped it would sate her. "Just your garden variety _stand by your woman_ kind of thing."

Ziva regarded him, and then scrunched up her nose. "You gave him Tammy Wynette lyrics?"

Tony had to chuckle at her knowledge of country and western songs. "Not exactly."

She bumped his arm with her shoulder. "DiNozzo's rules, yes? Never screw over your partner."

Tony smiled at her, and if they weren't at a crime scene, he probably would have added a kiss as well. "Exactly, Sweetcheeks."

He crouched to place a ruler beside the tire track and snapped off a shot while Ziva did a rough sketch of the direction it was headed.

"I thought of some new rules," she told him.

"Have you got a tape measure?" he asked. As she dug through her backpack, he responded to her statement. "What are they?"

"Don't yell your arguments," she said, and then tossed him the measuring tape. "And always be honest with your partner."

Tony couldn't help it. He had to laugh.

"What?" she demanded.

"Ziva,they're supposed to be rules you can actually abide by," Tony told her, and shot her a grin over his shoulder.

Her eyes narrowed. "You don't think I can abide by those?"

"I _know_ you can't abide by those," he said, and stretched the tape measure between the two tire tracks. "But that's not a comment on your character. I don't think anyone could abide by those. Especially the honesty one." He snapped a shot of the tape measure reading, and Ziva noted it for her sketch.

"Try me."

"Huh?"

"Try me," she repeated. "Ask a me a question you have always wanted an honest answer to."

Tony's knee popped as he stood up again, and he shook it absently as he turned to face her. She was wearing her _serious_ face. Tony looked around to check whether anyone was within earshot, and then looked down at her as he tried to think of a question worthy of this free pass. He could ask her if she loved him, but free pass or not, it wouldn't be fair to her. Besides which, he didn't really want to have that Big Deal conversation thirty feet from a dead body and their colleagues. He could ask her how many people she'd killed for Mossad, but he was almost certain that he _never_ wanted to know the answer to that. What he needed was a question that wouldn't open a bag of emotional worms, but was still juicy enough to test her commitment to the rule, and that would amuse him.

He broke into a smile as the most obvious question in the world finally occurred to him. He guessed that Ziva had an idea of what was coming by the way her shoulders suddenly slumped and her head cocked to the side with resignation.

"What?" she asked.

Tony stepped in to her, and then looked at her with enormous curiosity. "How often to you masturbate?" he asked, dropping his voice right down to be sure the others couldn't overhear them.

If Ziva was embarrassed by the question, she didn't show it. "Lately?" she asked, the frustrated tone in her voice hinting at her answer. "A lot. My right wrist is getting quite sore."

She delivered the priceless information with a smirk, but the one Tony gave back to her was twice as dirty. Her eyes were challenging him to comment, but frankly, he wanted to do other things with his mouth right now. He took a deep, controlled breath and slowly blew it out again.

"You had to tell me that at work?"

"You asked," she returned.

She had a point. Still, he wasn't going to hold that against himself for long. "So, you hold your hand at a particular angle that—"

"You want me to tell you?" she cut in.

He thought about that for two seconds, and determined that she was flirting rather than offended. "Well, if you're going to be honest about things."

She leaned closer and tilted her head up so that he could feel her breath on his chin. "Wouldn't you prefer me to _show_ you, Tony?"

He swallowed hard as the lust fuzz started clouding his brain again. "Yes. Definitely."

She smiled at him, all liquid eyes and pink lips, and then abruptly stepped back. "Well. Let's hope the INS comes through sometime soon. Then I'd be happy to take you through it."

The self-satisfied smirk she shot him before she lifted her sketchpad again made his fingers itch to reach out and pull her back so he could kiss her senseless. But he had just enough common sense left to tell him this was not the appropriate time or place to ravish her. He sucked in another deep breath and ripped his eyes away from her to look at the screen on his camera.

"I'm not going to forget you said that," he warned her.

"I would not want you to," she replied.

Jesus. Now he had a dozen more fantasies to think about while he tired out _his_ right wrist. Once again, he found himself wondering why they didn't just go there already now that they'd agreed to stick together, no matter which country they found themselves in. _Because_, he told himself, _we have to work out _where_ we're going before we take the next step._

"Hey!" Gibbs called out, and they both looked up at him. He waved them over, and Tony bent to pick up the measuring tape before he fell in step beside Ziva as they headed over to Gibbs and McGee.

"Got some pretty good impressions back there," Tony reported, getting his head back in the game. "Looks like an SUV. Possibly a jeep."

Gibbs nodded, and they all looked down at the body that had brought them into the woods today. Their dead sailor was lying in a heap at the bottom of a muddy gully, and his formerly pristine dress whites were now streaked with the dark brown earth and leaves.

"Dumped recently," Ziva said. "If he was put there before yesterday's heavy rain, he would not be as dirty."

Gibbs nodded again, and then looked at the three agents standing beside him. He cocked his head towards the body. "Well? Go on. Get down there and find out."

The trio looked at each other. It was only a two-person job, and currently there were zero takers. Tony held his fist out, and the other two followed suit.

"One, two, three," Tony said, and they all revealed their rock, paper, scissors choice. Tony went rock, betting that Ziva and McGee would both go scissors like they always did. Today was no different, and he smiled to himself as McGee and Ziva grunted in disgust.

"I don't suppose it would help my case any if I pointed out that I'm still recovering from my appendectomy?" McGee said.

"You are not!" Ziva argued. "I saw you working out in the gym two days ago."

"Gentle exercise," McGee corrected, sending her a soft glare for tattling.

"Then get down there _gently_," Gibbs said.

McGee frowned, and then secured the camera around his neck before he carefully started down the side of the muddy gully. Ziva followed him, climbing down sideways in an effort to balance her weight more effectively. She thought she might make it to the bottom of the gully without falling once, but then McGee slipped and lashed out with his arm to grab onto her for balance. Ziva had no hope of holding his weight, and the two of them ended up tumbling the last three feet. Ziva landed in the mud with an '_oof!_' and McGee let out a vaguely girly squeak of surprise and pain.

Above them, Gibbs smirked and Tony chuckled. Their colleagues were now covered in mud and leaves.

"Hot," Tony called down to Ziva, and then snapped a shot of her as she got to her feet. "Not you, probie," he directed at McGee.

Ziva scraped a handful of the thick, wet soil off her arm and tossed it at McGee's back with a scowl.

"Sorry," McGee mumbled to her, wincing until the sharp pain in his middle dulled.

"You are getting my dry cleaning bill," she told him.

"You're in jeans," he pointed out.

"Don't argue with me," she warned, and then looked up at the still grinning Tony and Gibbs. "The camera is muddy," she told them. "Why don't you bring down a clean towel, Tony?"

"Oh, I would," Tony said ruefully. "But I don't want to end up looking like that, and I don't trust you even a little bit. I'll send one down in a minute with Ducky."

She muttered something under her breath that Tony was fine with not hearing, and then turned to help McGee to his feet and check he was okay. The two of them made their way carefully through the deep mud of the gully floor to the body.

"Wrists and ankles are bound," Ziva reported. "Just like our victim yesterday."

McGee took a shot of the man's face with his iPhone and emailed it to Abby. "Looks like a small caliber gunshot to the right temple."

Ziva wrestled the camera off McGee's neck and unzipped her NCIS jacket. She cleaned off the lens as best she could with her t-shirt and started snapping off shots of the body. She took a few shots of the man's back pocket before McGee carefully reached in and retrieved his wallet. He held it by the edges to open it, and then compared the driver's license photo with the victim.

"Lou Gazzaro," McGee called up to Tony. "Address is Little Creek."

"I'll check it out," Tony said to Gibbs, and headed off to the truck where there was a laptop.

Gibbs watched him go, and then turned to look down at Ziva. It was clear that they were on another high after yesterday's low. He hadn't said anything to them after finding them asleep on top of each other at the hospital, but he was beginning to wish that he had. While Gibbs wasn't so arrogant to believe that if he told them they couldn't see each other they'd pay attention, he felt that something needed to be said about their behavior. They were a close-knit team, and having even one person out of sorts was enough to throw off everyone else's balance and mood. With two of them acting strangely—particularly the two _loudest_ people—it was a wonder that the whole team hadn't gotten distracted and messed up any of their cases.

Of course he now understood why they were so up and down. He wasn't heartless, and he would not tell them that he didn't care about their problems. But they needed to understand that while they were expending energy on fighting and sniping and flirting, they were dragging everyone else along for the ride and slowly wearing them down.

And what if Ziva stayed? What would happen to the team dynamic then? Would Gibbs and McGee be pulled into Tony and Ziva's relationship against their wills? With any luck, the emotional rollercoaster would begin a steady coast along even tracks, and Gibbs would never be any the wiser about what went on once they left the office. But what if it didn't?

Gibbs sighed to himself. He was no closer to working out how to deal with this than he was a week ago when he'd seen them at the hospital. A growing part of him wanted to stomp over, smack them both and tell them _Rule 12:Live by it or leave_. But he knew he'd be shooting himself in the foot. That was likely to cause him to lose at least one of them (probably Tony), and then Gibbs will have lost the best team (and closest friends and allies) he'd ever had.

He had to admit to being out of his depth on this one. It was time for him to consult his bow-tied fountain of knowledge.

* * *

Gibbs got his chance six hours later when he headed down to autopsy for the results of Ducky's exam. After discussing bullet wounds and ligature marks with the ME, Gibbs found himself hanging around over the body as Ducky prepared it for the freezer.

"Is there something else, Jethro?" Ducky asked. "Usually you are in and out of here like a Whirling Dervish."

"Where did Palmer go?" Gibbs asked. He didn't want to get into this conversation if the coast wasn't clear.

"Ah, he left earlier," Ducky replied as he made a few final notes in their dead sailor's file. "Yes, he was due at the lovely Breena's parents' house for dinner. Apparently they need to find a new location for the wedding. The poor boy has been a bundle of nerves."

Gibbs shot him a cynical smile. "Well, it's only his first wedding. He'll get the hang of it later."

Ducky said nothing, but sent him an admonishing look. Gibbs smirked and looked around the room as he tried to decide how to go about this. He hated feeling like a gossip, but reminded himself that sorting this out was important. He decided to be direct about it. It was what he did best.

"I don't know what to do about Tony."

Ducky chuckled to himself. "Ah. A phrase most likely spoken by so many of his authoritarian figures in the past."

Gibbs spared a moment to wonder how the nuns at Tony's elementary school would have handled a chattering, hyperactive, inquisitive kid like him. It was no wonder his initials were ADD.

"He and Ziva have been up and down a lot lately."

"Well, of course," Ducky said, nodding like this was old news. "I imagine they are both rather anxious. Ziva certainly had cause, and I dare say Tony considers much of his future to be resting on decisions yet to be made by a nameless bureaucrat."

Gibbs sighed through his friend's observation. He wondered how long ago Ducky had worked it out, and why _he_ hadn't seen it sooner. Probably it was because he hadn't wanted to. "I need to tell them to cut it out, but if I do that Tony's likely to rip my head off."

Ducky set down the file, and raised a curious eyebrow. "Cut what out, Jethro?"

"The up and down," Gibbs spelt out. "You don't know what it's like to be working with them at the moment. It's like being married to Dianne again. One second everything's fine, and the next someone's trying to hit someone over the head with a baseball bat."

"Yes," Ducky said slowly. "It certainly is a difficult situation _for them_."

Gibbs ignored Ducky's implication that he shouldn't make it about him. "You know, this would all be easier if DiNozzo moved on, finally," he said, trying not to let his pride in his charge interfere with his current irritation. "I don't even know why he's hanging around anymore. He doesn't need my guidance, and he's done a damn good job with McGee. Kid needs to put in for his own team. I want to encourage him, but…he's so damn sensitive at times. If I tell him to go, he's likely to think that he's let me down."

Ducky was quiet for a moment while he watched his friend and his brain caught up with the new direction of the conversation. "Jethro, do you really not know why he stays?"

Gibbs' eyes went heavenward. "I think it might start with a _'Z'_…"

"I am sure she is part of it," Ducky said. "But I believe it has more to do with you, and how much you rely on him."

Ducky watched the frown briefly flicker across Gibbs' face, but when it appeared that he wasn't going to argue, Ducky continued with his assessment.

"You have grown accustomed to treating your charges in a certain way, Jethro," Ducky lectured gently. "Anthony has adapted over time, but I do not think that he is entirely comfortable leaving Timothy and Ziva to cope with your methods alone. I believe that he is as protective as a mother hen at times."

Gibbs turned a deeper frown on him. "What _methods_, Duck? I expect my agents to give each case 100 per cent. I don't think that's too much to ask."

"Of course not," Ducky replied. "But you do not expect 100 per cent. You expect _more_. Demand more. You make it difficult for your agents to have a life outside of work, and then yell at them when they falter. Anthony, I believe, feels it is his duty to shield Timothy and Ziva from the brunt of this, and he may be concerned with how they would deal with it if he were to leave."

Gibbs felt a pang of guilt, but argued the point. "I don't ask them to give up their lives. And Tony sure as hell packs some living into his time away from the office."

Ducky shot him a look of disappointment that made Gibbs squirm. "You know as well as I that Tony kicked his habit of drinking and surrounding himself with numerous young ladies long ago," he said sternly.

Gibbs sighed. Yeah, he did know. In his first few years at NCIS, Tony DiNozzo was more than comfortable with sharing the details of his numerous dates to anyone who would listen. He'd arrive at work late, smelling like a bar and with a satisfied look on his face that Gibbs had to smack away more times than he could count. It was only Tony's stunning ability to take Gibbs' crap and deliver outstanding results on the job that had kept him employed. Fast forward ten years, and the kid was more talented and qualified than half a dozen team leaders Gibbs could think of off the top of his head. He hadn't heard a word about a date or a binge drinking session with his buddies in longer than he could remember. And he regularly put in eighteen-hour days without a word of complaint. Gibbs knew that all of that couldn't be attributed to one single thing, but there did seem to be a factor that stood out amongst all the others.

"There's that _'Z'_ word again," he sighed.

"Stop treating her as though she were a profanity," Ducky snapped.

Gibbs shook his head. "I didn't mean it like that." He ran his fingertips over the steel of the table. "But that brings up the real issue here. What do you think of rule 12?"

"Which one would that be?" Ducky asked.

"Never date a co-worker."

"Ah," Ducky sighed. "The one that is impossible to vow you will always follow."

Gibbs took that as his answer. "I take it you don't agree with it."

"I believe it serves a purpose," Ducky said. "Of forcing one to think before acting. But if someone as committed to you and the rules as Tony is struggling with it, then I dare say it should be up for review."

"It shouldn't be hard to follow," Gibbs stated.

Ducky agreed, to a point. "Of course not, Jethro. And yet, Abby, McGee, Mr Palmer and Agent Lee have all done so. As have _you_. The fact that Tony and Ziva have not yet acted on their feelings does not necessarily mean that they have not broken the rule. Emotionally, at least, but what else they've done is none of my business. Perhaps the rule should be _never employ a person who would be well matched to date their co-worker_."

Gibbs looked at him, incredulous. "Duck, you can't tell me that you saw Abby and McGee's relationship coming. Or Tony and Ziva's. Or even Palmer and Lee's. We're talking about people who seemed to be polar opposites of each other."

"Ah, but opposites attract," Ducky said, raising a wise finger. "People are attracted to tribes other than their own. It strengthens the species and breeds out the genetic imperfections—"

"I don't need an anthropological discussion on it," Gibbs cut in, rubbing his suddenly sore head.

Ducky pulled back slightly, knowing that if he were to continue down that route, he would lose Gibbs quickly. "When your charges spend as much time at work as they do, it is only natural that they would look _within_ their workplace to find such a relationship. But if you impose a rule that forbids them from doing so, what are they to do? Human beings need to form loving relationships, Jethro. It is a primeval instinct. Your wrath may be mighty, but it is no match for the basic human need to become half of a whole."

"Now I remember why I don't drink with you anymore," Gibbs muttered, although he allowed Ducky a brief smirk. It was as close as he'd get to admitting Ducky had a point. "If Ziva's application is successful, I'd bet the house that they're going to stop dancing around each other before the ink's dry on her INS file. And I don't know how to handle them if they dating each other while they're both still on the team. How am I supposed to do that?"

"Oh," Ducky said. "Well, my opinion on that is simple. It is none of your business, and you should stay out of it."

Gibbs blinked at his bluntness. "I'm their boss," he felt the need to point out. "If their fight over Tony leaving the toilet seat up follows them to work, it's my business. If someone gets distracted playin' grabass in the field and ends up getting shot, that's my business."

"Do you really consider them to be that shallow?" Ducky asked.

"DiNozzo?" Gibbs said, but Ducky gave him a disappointed look that almost made Gibbs apologize.

"You don't _really_ think he's quite so easily distracted, do you?" Ducky asked. "I know Tony plays the clown, but surely you realize it's his way of disarming people and putting them at ease, among other things."

"Yeah, Duck, of course I know it," he said, shaking his head. "Tony's about the best agent this place has. And when you put him with Ziva…I know those two are working a job well below what they're capable of together."

"But you're concerned that if he forms a relationship with Ziva, he will lose his focus?" Ducky guessed.

Gibbs stared at him for a moment before dropping his gaze. "I know how easy it can be." He knew Ducky wouldn't need an explanation on his position. He'd been there to see the mistakes Gibbs had made during his lengthy affair with Jenny Shepard, and to watch Gibbs struggle to put the pieces back together after it ended. There was no need to go into the details of it now.

"I can see how this is going to play out," he went on. "I know that Tony's committed to her already. But they're holding back for the moment, and right now that's keeping him afloat. But as soon as he takes that first step, it's going to be a plunge. He's going to fall as hard for her as I did for Shannon."

"Well, if that's what you truly think, Jethro, I don't understand why you would want to stop him. Don't you trust Ziva?"

"With my life," Gibbs said immediately. "But with Tony's heart? That's something altogether different."

Ducky regarded him knowingly, and then stepped over to briefly touch Gibbs' shoulder. "I understand your paternal affection for your charge," he said. "But Anthony is not a child. He is an intelligent man who is seeking to fill an emotional void in his life. If he sees our Ziva as the one he needs to find happiness and contentedness, it is not for you or anyone else to judge him."

Gibbs sighed to himself. He should have known that Ducky would come down on Tony and Ziva's side. Hell, maybe he _had_ known all along, and he'd sought Ducky's input only to assure himself that he wasn't doing the wrong thing by letting his father side win out over his boss side.

He nodded, but his mind wasn't quite at ease just yet. "Thanks, Duck," he said, and headed for the door.

He needed to talk to Tony.


	11. Part 11: The Phone Call

**A/N: Apologies for the delay. I meant to post last night but my Swiss cheese memory has been at it again. Thanks for your continuing readership, reviews and support.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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**Part 11: The Phone Call**

A week later their case had wrapped, and Tony and Abby were at a bar two blocks from the Navy Yard. Ziva and McGee would be joining them for post-case drinks as soon as they'd finished their preliminary reports, and Abby decided that the best way to pass the time waiting for them was by grilling Tony about his quasi-relationship with his partner.

"So you and Ziva seem to be kind of normal lately," she said.

Tony's expression sat somewhere between curious and offended. "Normal?"

Abby tipped an ice cube into her mouth. "I jus' mean you're not fighting," she said around the cube. "You had some big ones lately."

He rolled his eyes and smirked. "Ziva made a new rule. _Don't yell your arguments_."

"I can get behind that," Abby said, nodding. "But does that mean you're still fighting, only now you're doing it in whispers?"

Tony wiped condensation off the side of his beer bottle and then flicked the water at Abby. "No. We're not fighting. And we're being honest. That was her other new rule. _Always be honest with your partner_."

"Yikes," Abby said, grimacing. "That could lead to some revelations that should be left unrevealed." He made a face that suggested he completely agreed. "Did she give them numbers yet?"

Tony shook his head. "No. That would make them official, and I'm not convinced that she's fully committed to them yet. I think she's just giving them a test drive but she'll drop them as soon as the first tire blows out."

"So what have you been honest about?"

Abby didn't know what response she was expecting, but with Tony involved, she probably shouldn't have been surprised by the dirty smirk that stretched his mouth.

"A gentleman never tells," he told her.

"With a smile that dirty, I don't think I'd want to hear it anyway." She watched his smile turn amused before he took a sip of his beer. By the time the bottle reached the table again, his smile had faded completely and his expression was tense.

"I think she brought it up because I told her about Jill," he said, eyes flicking to hers before settling back on the bottle.

Abby leaned forward with surprise and put her hand on his arm. "You did?"

"Yeah," he nodded. "Told her everything. Showed her photos, even."

Abby frowned. "There are photos?"

"You don't want to see them," he told her, a tone of warning in his voice that Abby definitely heeded. She really didn't want to see him battered and bruised, even if it was in a photograph from 15 years ago.

"How did she take it?"

Tony's eyes drifted over her shoulder. "She was…quiet," he said, and then winced.

Abby winced right back. They both knew what that meant. Ziva had moved past anger into blind fury, and that's when she got unpredictable. Abby chose not to dwell on that.

"Look, I know you never wanted to tell me about it in the first place, so you're probably within your rights here to tell me to butt out."

"I wouldn't tell you that," Tony shot in.

She sent him a brief smile. "I just want to put it out there that if you ever need, like, security detail if she resurfaces? I'm on that." She waved her hands through the air. "I mean, I know that the second Jill sets foot within 20 miles of you, Ziva'll turn into _The Incredible Hulk_ or somethin'. She'll probably take the skank out in two seconds flat. But I'll tag in whenever I'm needed."

Tony gave her an affectionate smile, even though she knew he didn't approve of her suggestion of involvement through violence. But what could she say? Tony was her big brother, and she had a duty to protect him against all manner of hell bitches.

"Aren't I supposed to be threatening to beat up your ex-boyfriends?" Tony said.

Abby rolled her eyes. "Sure, if you're gonna be all traditional, girls-are-weak-chuck-them-in-the-creek about it. And I accept that deep down, you probably are." She ignored his sharply raised eyebrow. "But considering that your only long-standing female relationships have been with me, Ziva and Kate, I'm going to assume that you're okay with role reversal as well."

She saw something akin to hurt cross his face, and for a moment she couldn't understand why that was so offensive. But then she remembered another relationship he'd had that'd affected him without any of them knowing it.

"Oh, and also Jeanne," she added gently, swallowing the sting she still felt over him keeping her a secret—even if she understood _why_ he had. "But I don't know how you guys fit."

Tony looked far too introspective for her liking. "Maybe we didn't," he shrugged.

Abby gave him a sympathetic look, even if she didn't really understand where he was coming from. She patted his thigh and gave him a break from the spotlight. "I definitely have a list of exes that I'd be happy for you to beat up."

His smile was back. "The guy who tried to drive his Harley over you?"

Abby shrugged that one off. "I'm over that."

"McGee?" he asked hopefully.

"I don't know if you could take him," she baited, and then laughed at his look of pure and utter offence.

"A couple of hours on the treadmill doesn't compare with a lifetime of training to be a pro athlete and training to be a cop," he lectured.

Abby nodded along. "Or a lifetime training in deadly Israeli martial arts," she added.

Tony brought his beer up to his mouth again. "I'm not saying Ziva couldn't wipe the floor with both of us," he mumbled.

She poked his thigh. "So, you haven't told Gibbs or McGee, have you?"

He frowned at her, but then caught up before she had to explain that she was talking about Jill again. "No. Maybe Gibbs' Spidey Sense picked it up, but I haven't said anything. I don't really see the point." He shrugged. "Water, bridge."

She nodded, even though she didn't necessarily agree. Of course, she was the one who'd kept the fact that she was being stalked by her ex-boyfriend a secret until a defendant had tried to kill her, and the team had discovered she had a restraining order against him. Perhaps she shouldn't throw stones while she was living in this glass house.

"I think it's good you told Ziva, though," she told him.

Tony nodded, just as Ziva and McGee walked through the door of the bar. "I wasn't going to keep it from her."

"Good," Abby said. She knew that Tony and Ziva's relationship technically wasn't any of her business, but she would hate for Jill to come out of the woodwork five years from now when Tony and Ziva were making babies, and Ziva didn't know anything about the woman.

And now that Ziva _did_ know about her, Abby might be able to enlist her help in getting Tony to extend his protection order and make Jill understand that she was not welcome in his life.

* * *

When Ziva pulled into the parking lot at the Navy Yard the next morning, she was surprised to see Abby waiting around beside her hearse. The goth stood to attention as soon as she saw Ziva's car, and she was already walking over before Ziva had even turned the engine off. Abby was wearing what Ziva thought of as her Mission Face, and it seemed as though Ziva would be playing a part in whatever she wanted to get done today.

She popped open her door, and jumped back when a pale arm holding a cup of coffee was thrust into the car towards her face.

"Morning," Abby called in to her.

"Good morning, Abby," Ziva replied, and took the cup from her. Abby stepped back far enough to give Ziva space to get out of the car. "_Toda_," she said, tipping the cup towards Abby and slamming her car door.

Abby started backing up along the narrow space between the cars. "I'm glad I caught you."

Ziva didn't point out that she had actually _stalked_ her this morning. "Are you all right?"

Abby did a spin as she reached Ziva's rear fender, and they started making their way through the car park to the NCIS building. "We need to talk," she stated.

Ziva could only guess where this was going. With Abby, you never knew. She took a large sip of coffee to prepare her for whatever was coming. "Okay. About what?"

"Jill."

Ziva's head swiveled to look at her. That name had taken on a much more serious meaning for Ziva in the last week. But did Abby know that?

"Jill?" she prompted.

"You know, Jill!" Abby cried, throwing up her hands. "_Crazy_ Jill! Psycho Jill who went to prison for hiring guys to beat Tony half to death! Jill the Bitch!"

Ziva controlled her breathing and kept her poker face until she could gather more information about what Abby knew. Tony had said that although he'd told Abby some of what had happened, she certainly didn't know all of it. And with Tony's expressed wish for privacy, Ziva knew she had to be very careful about what she said here. "When did he—?"

"Like, four years ago," Abby anticipated. "I was with him when he got the call about her parole hearing, and he had to explain to me why he suddenly looked so sick."

Ziva felt a bolt of anger aimed at the woman who managed to shake her partner so much that he was still nervous about what happened 15 years after the fact. She cleared her throat and swallowed the venom she felt creeping up her throat back down.

"He showed you photos?" Abby prompted.

"Did you see them?" she asked, even though she had a fair idea that she hadn't.

Abby shook her head, grimacing with the images that her imagination must have been throwing up.

"They were…bad," Ziva said, shaking her head as they crossed the lawn in front of the NCIS building.

Abby lowered her voice as they approached the front doors. "He keeps saying that it's in the past and it's not part of his life now, and I guess I believe him because the only time he ever says anything is when I bug him about it. Which is almost never. But I'm worried about what'll happen if she shows up."

Ziva frowned deeply as she held open the door for Abby, and then followed her into the foyer. "Why do you think she'll show up?"

Abby rummaged through her bag for her ID card, and then swiped it before she walked through the metal detectors. She turned to wait for Ziva, who was unloading her small personal arsenal into a tray held by a security guard. She swiped her card and joined Abby on the other side of the metal detectors, and Abby hovered by her shoulder as she collected her weapons again.

"Because she's crazy," Abby replied. "She's tried to contact him every time he hasn't had a protection order against her."

Ziva did some deep breathing as she put her guns and knife back where they belonged. Tony hadn't told her that, but that didn't anger her as much as the knowledge that his current protection order was about to run out, and Jill might take that as an invitation to contact him again.

_Over Ziva's dead body._

"Tony's always pretty composed, you know?" Abby went on, pushing it further. "But he was _really_ upset when he told me. I don't want him to have to go through all this crap again."

It was the last thing Ziva wanted as well, but surely that was out of their control? "Abby, I don't either. But I do not know what you want me to do about it."

Abby hit the down button for the elevator, and then caught Ziva's hand before she hit the up button. "Just come downstairs with me for a minute," she implored.

Ziva met her pleading gaze, and then shrugged her assent.

Down in Labby, Ziva rested a hip against Abby's workbench and sipped her coffee while she waited for Abby to wake up all of her machines and bid them a good morning. Then, she retrieved a Caf-Pow from her fridge and came to stand in front of Ziva.

"If he won't protect him, I think _we_ should," Abby continued, all big, innocent eyes and pouted red lip.

Ziva idly wondered if that was the look she used on Gibbs to get him to do her bidding. "Abby, we don't know that he needs protection," Ziva said, tapping into her Tony Voice and ignoring the part of her that wanted to agree wholeheartedly and launch a full-scale attack on the woman. "And right now, the protection order is doing that. If she has been obeying it for the last four years, then there is no reason that she would suddenly ignore it."

Abby crossed her arms over her chest and looked at Ziva with blatant betrayal. "It's _Tony_," she stated, as if that were the only argument she needed.

Ziva twisted her lips as the battle inside her raged. She didn't want to start her relationship with Tony by going behind his back and doing what he specifically asked her not to do. But what if she was going behind his back for the purpose of _saving_ his back? And it wasn't like she had to keep it a secret. She could look up Jill's whereabouts now, and tell him she'd done it later. Seek forgiveness instead of asking permission, right?

Although Tony had told her that he didn't know where Jill lived, Ziva knew he'd been lying. But the fact that he knew and didn't seem too worried about it suggested that she was far enough away that she wouldn't be able to cause much of a problem. And if she was far enough away not to bother Tony, then she was probably far enough away not to bother Ziva. So looking into it wouldn't _really _be that big of a deal, would it?

She closed her eyes and shook her head to herself in disgust at her ridiculously flimsy reasoning. He didn't want her to get involved, and that was that. She should honor his wishes. The only problem with that was that Ziva was _dying_ to know where this woman was, and whether she would ever have grounds to punch her in her stupid face.

Already feeling slightly sick with guilt, Ziva heaved a huge sigh and turned to Abby's computer. She would only do a basic search, she decided. Nothing that would raise anyone's attention and make them ask questions about why they were doing searches on a woman who wasn't in any way related to any of their cases.

Abby pressed herself to Ziva's side and stuck her head over Ziva's shoulder as she typed the name Jill Montgomery into the nation-wide DMV database. The search returned more hits than she expected.

"Age range," Abby said, almost against her ear.

Ziva refined the search to include only those women aged between 35 and 40. There were still a lot of results, and Ziva's common sense was beginning to tell her to stop this search _now_.

But Abby wasn't done. "Criminal record," she said, and before Ziva could open her mouth to protest that they should stop, Abby nudged her out of the way and ran her own program over the results. Five seconds later, they had a single match.

Jill Montgomery's driver's license popped up on the screen, and both women stared at the face. It was clearly the same woman from the mug shot Tony had shown Ziva, plus 15 years of neglect. But the lines around her eyes and bad haircut weren't the most worrying part of it. Her driver's license was issued in Virginia.

Abby gasped. "Ziva, her address is only about 20 minutes from Tony's place," Abby said. "She followed him from Philly."

Instead of freaking out, Ziva ignored her rocketing heartbeat and tried to keep her expression neutral. The last thing they needed was Abby getting hyper upset and blabbing to everyone about what they'd found. Remaining outwardly calm was the best way Ziva knew to manage Abby's moods. "We don't know that," Ziva said in her Tony Voice. "We cannot jump to conclusions.

Abby ignored her and did another search. This one showed up her work history, and Ziva found it slightly more difficult to remain calm. Jill currently worked at a graphic design studio located just four blocks from Tony's apartment.

"Ziva," Abby started, but Ziva reached forward and hit the key to exit the program.

"No more," she said, her tone not inviting any argument from Abby. "This is enough. I will deal with it."

She gathered her coffee cup and headed for the door, feeling Abby's eyes on her back as she went. Her anger with Jill fuelled her stride down the hallway to the elevator, and once she was inside the car she hit the emergency brake. Tony would probably be at his desk by the time she got upstairs, and she had to calm down before she sat down in front of him. Chances were good that he would pick up she was upset, and she decided that she would tell him what they'd just done as soon as she had the chance. But she couldn't do that in front of Gibbs and McGee. It was definitely a conversation to be had in private.

* * *

The chance to tell him presented itself just after lunch when Tony and Ziva were down in the evidence garage. They were sorting through evidence bags from their last case and checking that everything was present and accounted for before locking it away, when Ziva put down a pair of muddy socks and dived in.

"I looked up Jill this morning."

Tony's pen stilled over his clipboard, and Ziva squeezed her eyes shut momentarily as she waited for punishment. But he didn't yell. He put down his clipboard and turned his body to her, and leaned against the desk.

"I'm going to go out on a limb and say that Abby was involved."

She didn't know how he knew that, but she wasn't going to drag Abby into it. Ziva had been the one to do the DMV search, and she wasn't going to use Abby as a scapegoat to save her own butt. "I did not want to go behind your back," she said. "It is why I am telling you now. I know you did not want me to—"

"So why did you?"

His tone was not angry, exactly. But it did demand an answer. She looked up from the table to meet his eyes, and let him see how guilty she felt. "Because you said the protection order is about to run out, and I wanted to know where she is and how worried I should be."

He held her gaze for a few long seconds before his expression softened, and she knew he had forgiven her. Her shoulders dropped in relief, and she edged closer to him.

"So you looked her up."

She answered his unasked question. "Did you know that she lives in Virginia?" Ziva asked, trying very hard to keep the anxiety out of her voice. "Just 20 minutes or so from your house."

"Yes, I knew that."

She wasn't expecting that. She thought that when he said she knew where she lived, he must have had an old address. She didn't expect him to be more or less okay with someone he had a protection order against living closer to him than he did to work.

"Did you know that she works four blocks from you?"

This time, his eyes snapped to hers and she saw his jaw tighten. She took that to mean that he hadn't known that. They watched each other as he processed that, and then right before she thought he might lose his composure, he swallowed, nodded and got himself together.

"Ziva, I am clear on why you and Abby felt the need to look into this," he said, using the voice she'd been hearing in her head that morning. "But I told you both, and I _mean it_. I don't want you to talk to her, or visit her, or find her on Facebook, or email her, or call her." He leaned right in to her and dropped his voice. "What I do want you to do is just support me if she ever shows up. Okay? Please don't do this again."

Chastened, Ziva nodded quickly. "Okay."

"Promise me."

"I promise," Ziva said. "I won't go near her, and I will have your back." She'd already betrayed his trust, and she was lucky he was so quick to forgive this time. But despite how strongly she felt about wanting to track down Jill and put the fear of God into her, she felt more strongly about being someone that Tony could always trust. She wanted him to know she had his back. That she was on his team.

He gave her a soft smile. "Thank you."

She nodded, and they held gazes for a few more moments in place of the kiss they would have shared of they'd been at home. Then Tony picked his clipboard back up, and Ziva selected the next item of evidence.

"Thank you for being honest with me," he said.

She glanced at him. "Thank you for not yelling."

He smirked as Ziva's new rules got another workout, but then went serious again. "For the record, I know that if our roles were reversed I'd be finding it hard to sit still."

She shot him an appreciative smile. "Will you think about extending the protection order?" she asked.

He didn't answer right away. "I'll think about it."

She didn't get a chance to push it further before Jimmy Palmer spoke from behind them.

"The beach is a go!" he exclaimed.

Tony and Ziva turned to see Jimmy beaming at them with both his thumbs up. They glanced at each other and then dared to engage in more wedding conversation.

"That's great," Tony said. "Breena went for it, huh?"

Jimmy nodded and pushed his glasses up his nose. "Yeah. So don't worry too much about what shoes you wear."

Tony looked down at Ziva. "You can still wear stilettos in sand, right?" he said to her.

"Stop it," she warned. This shoe thing he had was getting weird.

"Only three weeks to go," Jimmy grinned. "Then I get my own partner!"

The elevator pinged as Tony and Ziva shared a brief, loaded look, and then Gibbs strode out of the lift.

"Palmer!" he called. "Ducky's looking for you. Go."

In the face of Gibbs' gruff voice, Jimmy's smile dropped and he scurried towards the elevator. He avoided eye contact with Gibbs as they crossed paths, and by the time Gibbs was standing with Tony and Ziva, the ME's assistant was safely inside the lift.

"You scared him," Tony told Gibbs.

Gibbs made a face like the suggestion was ridiculous, but didn't comment. He dropped a few more evidence bags on the table. "These were from Abby."

"Are we sure that's it?" Tony asked as Ziva's cell phone rang. She pulled out of her pocket, and frowned at the unfamiliar number on caller ID. She excused herself and took a few steps away to answer the call.

"You're the one doing the inventory," Gibbs replied. "You tell me."

But Tony wasn't paying attention to him. His eyes had followed Ziva as she'd moved away, and he was now staring at her with the intensity of a guard dog. Gibbs followed his gaze to where Ziva stood, and the tension in her frame was hard to miss. Gibbs' gut made a noise, and he realized that this might be _the_ phone call. The one Ziva had been waiting for that would determine the path her life was about to take.

"Yes, I understand," he heard Ziva say, and it was impossible to tell what was going on. Her tone was utterly controlled and flat, providing no indication of whether the news she was receiving was good or bad.

Gibbs felt his heart begin to hammer, and he swallowed nervously. Why wasn't she smiling? Why wasn't she happy? The only reason Gibbs could think of was that she was hearing that her application had been unsuccessful, but that didn't make any sense to him. That wasn't how things were supposed to go. She was supposed to be granted citizenship, and continue to be a part of his family. Okay, he was expecting that she and DiNozzo would become the most _annoying_ part of his family, but she was still supposed to stay. She was like a daughter to him. How could the Government just take her away?

He blinked out of his daze as Tony walked over to her, but Gibbs didn't follow. Whatever was going on now…this wasn't his moment to intrude on. He stood rooted to the spot as he watched Tony place a hand on her shoulder, and Ziva did a quarter turn towards him. Her head remained bowed and her face obscured by her hair as she reached out to catch Tony's suit jacket in her fist, and Gibbs couldn't help but think that the touch was the only thing keeping her on her feet right now.

"Yes. Thank you," Ziva said flatly, and then cleared her throat. "How long until I receive the letter of advice?"

Gibbs wondered if Vance had any connections within the INS that they could use. Maybe they could lodge an appeal and find someone who could swing it their way. Hell, maybe she could just stay here illegally. She wouldn't be able to work for NCIS, but it shouldn't be too hard to track down someone who owed one of them a favor and could give her a cash-in-hand job.

"Okay," Ziva said, her voice now tight with unshed tears. "I appreciate it. Thank you."

She snapped her phone shut, and then hung her head and rubbed her temples. Tony looked like he was about to be sick, and Gibbs felt something he rarely did: panic. How was he going to hold his team together through this? How was he going to hold _Tony_ together?

He watched as Tony slid his hand across Ziva's back to her other shoulder, and then lowered his head to say something to her that Gibbs couldn't catch. Ziva's response was to nod and turn herself into her chest, and as both of his arms went around her, Tony tipped his head back to look at the ceiling. Then something unexpected happened; Tony's mouth stretched into the biggest, freest smile Gibbs had ever seen.

Gibbs frowned at the action that seemed to clash so much with what he thought was going on. Ziva was leaving and Tony was…smiling?

"Jesus, Sweetcheeks!" Tony exclaimed. "You scared the _crap_ out of me!"

Ziva's arms went around his waist as her body jolted with either a sob or a laugh, and Gibbs' brain slowly started to catch up. Was it good news after all?

Tony lowered his head to speak into her ear again, but this time Gibbs caught what he said. "I told you so."

His forced arrogance made Ziva lift her head to look up at him, and Gibbs could finally see that she was smiling, not crying. Relief flooded his body and sapped his strength so much that he had to brace himself against the table. He didn't even give a crap when Tony took Ziva's face between his hands to give her a brief but emotionally-loaded kiss. Right now, he only cared that his family was staying together.

He took a step towards them, drawing Ziva's attention. She turned her smile on him as she stepped back from Tony.

"Your application?" Gibbs said.

Ziva nodded. "I am being granted citizenship."

Gibbs put his hand on her arm and pulled her in to hug her tightly. "Congratulations, Ziva."

"Thank you," she said, and stepped back. "So I will probably be on the team for a while longer."

Gibbs smiled. "You're always welcome."

She looked back to Tony, and her expression suddenly filled with so much happiness, excitement and love that Gibbs barely recognized her. And Tony's expression was just as alien. Adoration. Blatant adoration. He still wasn't sure how he was going to handle this, but right now Gibbs was keen to leave them alone to have the moment they needed _without_ his presence. He started to step away, but after a quick squeeze of Tony's hand, it was Ziva who made her exit.

"I think I just need to go for a quick walk," she told them.

Tony nodded, and Gibbs wondered how he'd anticipated her need for alone time right now. Probably because he knew her better than anyone.

"I'll finish this," Tony told her, gesturing at the table of evidence with his head.

She sent them both a final, joyful smile before she turned and left the evidence garage. As soon as she was gone, Tony's eyes fell on Gibbs and the two men shared grins. Tony returned to the evidence table, and Gibbs hung around to help him out.

Gibbs knew he still had to have a talk with Tony about what happened now, but he wouldn't dare bring it up in this moment. If Gibbs was full of happiness, relief and paternal pride, he could only imagine how Tony must have felt. The guy just got the rest of his life handed to him, and Gibbs doubted that Tony could care less about rules and regulations. So instead of reading the riot act, Gibbs just let them work side-by-side in contented silence. The hard stuff could wait for another day.

* * *

**Wow! What a relief! Bet you didn't see _that_ coming (sarcasm).**


	12. Part 12: The Release

**A/N: Okay, Ziva's staying. Yay! But the story's far from finished. We've still got a wedding to attend. But not yet. Right now we have to deal with…the release of tension.  
WARNING: This chapter turns M-rated after the second break. If you're uncomfortable with that, please skip it. You won't miss any important plot points.  
Also a quick warning for some swearing.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

**Part 12: The Release**

Ziva could barely feel her feet on the pavement as she walked from the evidence garage to the small park behind the NCIS building. It was another clear, hot day in the city but she barely registered the sunshine that heated her face. In fact, she could barely feel her body at all. She was numb from the shock of the news that she would soon become a citizen of the United States.

Had that really just happened? Or had she imagined it?

She dropped onto a bench by the water and then pulled her cell phone out of her pocket to check the incoming call register. Yes, she really had just received a call. But had they really said her application was successful? She couldn't believe it. She honestly hadn't been able to guess which way the decision was going to fall. Her past with Mossad was _not_ a model picture of American citizenship, and she had even been wanted for murder in this country at one point. Her liaison position with NCIS skewed the points in her favor, but just barely. On paper, Ziva was sure she looked more like someone who should be deported than someone the Government would roll out the welcome mat for.

She could only assume that Vance made one hell of a sale when he vouched for her.

The thought made Ziva's stomach tighten with concern. Vance's involvement undoubtedly helped her get what she wanted, and she would always be grateful for it. But she would be stupid to think that his assistance wouldn't come back to bite her at some point. She would have to watch out for the time Vance decided she needed to repay the favor. Maybe she'd end up on Special Ops in L.A. after all. It wasn't what she wanted right now, but that didn't mean she would always feel that way. Tony liked L.A. enough that he could probably be persuaded to give it a chance if the opportunity presented itself, so maybe in a few years—

Ziva's eyes widened when she realized what she was doing. She was making plans for them. _Both_ of them. Because now that they knew she was staying in the country, their relationship was going to turn serious. After all this time, after the teasing and fighting and push and pull of their years together, one phone call had sealed their fate. They were really going to take a chance on each other.

Although Ziva had been entertaining the thought for months, it had been just that. A thought. A hope. A 'one day'. Suddenly, she found that they'd reached that 'one day' when their relationship was no longer a hope. It was real. It was going to start in earnest as soon as they left work that afternoon, and she had to be ready for it.

But was she?

Ziva's heartbeat rocketed up and she felt momentarily dizzy as a wave of panic crashed through her. God help her, she didn't think she was. She wasn't ready to be his girlfriend. It was a stupid title and she _hated_ it. She wasn't ready to be watched by all their friends and have their every smile and frown scrutinized for signs of progress or trouble. She wasn't ready to have the conversation about whether he should get a drawer in her bedroom and space in her closet. She wasn't ready to think of someone else's needs and feelings when she was making decisions about her own life. It was terrifying, and she _wasn't ready_.

She put her head in her hands and breathed through her nausea. What the hell did she think she was doing? Embarking on a relationship with her goddamn partner and letting him think…what, exactly? That she loved him?

The ringing in Ziva's ears started to quiet down and her heartbeat slowed. She _did_ love him. That was a fact. She didn't think she could say the words to him just yet, but she didn't want him to doubt what she felt. She did want to be with him. She wanted his love and companionship. She wanted their two-person team to thrive. She wanted him there beside her every day of her life. These were things that she was absolutely clear on. So what the hell was her problem?

Ziva closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe she was just in shock. Or maybe, now that they had been given the green light they'd been waiting for, she was terrified that she'd screw it up and was looking for excuses not to try. Whatever the reason, Ziva had to get over it, and fast. Because the truth was that she _was_ ready for this. She could have a dozen panic attacks before the end of the day, but it wouldn't change that fact that this relationship she was agonizing over had already started. It had been going on for months. Suggesting otherwise when Tony had said he'd leave the country with her if it came to that was offensive to both of them. The only thing that was really going to change now was that they'd finally get started on the physical side of the relationship, and as far as Ziva was concerned, that was the easy part. Sex wasn't a big deal for either of them. Letting themselves fall in love and commit to each other? _That_ was the terrifying bit, and they'd already done it. Everything else should be small potatoes.

As she talked herself down from the ledge, Ziva gave herself a final talking-to. She had to stop getting in the way of herself. She had to stop letting her ideas of the way other people _might_ react to this relationship scare her into backing away from it. She couldn't predict what the others would do, and she shouldn't throw this chance away just because she couldn't control the way they would act. All she could control was the way she treated Tony, and he deserved better than her freaking out and doubting herself. Just because he already knew she was messed up and more than a little bit crazy, and seemed to accept the fact as part of her charm, didn't mean she could use it as an excuse to screw this up.

Satisfied with her pep-talk, Ziva took another deep breath and opened her eyes. This was what she had wanted, she reminded herself. To stay here with Tony and the rest of her family, in the city that she had grown to love so much. There was no backing out now, and she didn't want to. As she looked out over the Potomac River to the city skyline, Ziva felt a bubble of happiness form in her chest. This was her city. Her country. Her home. This was the place that would give her the freedom she needed to live the life and have the family she wanted. And she couldn't wait for the day the recited her Oath of Allegiance.

* * *

By the time Ziva returned to the bullpen, Abby, Ducky and Jimmy were waiting with the others. They stood in a loose circle around Tony's desk, smiling and chatting with an excitement that made the back of Ziva's throat sting. This was her family. Her completely weird, mismatched and yet somehow perfectly functional family that she loved with her whole heart. Suddenly, the usually composed American citizen-in-waiting was sure she was about to cry.

Before she could turn and head for the ladies' room to spill tears on her own, Tony looked her way. The smile he gave her was small, but his eyes warmed her to her bones and it made the doubt she'd felt just minutes ago completely disappear. How the hell could she ever make herself turn her back on him? How could she think she wasn't ready for everything this relationship would bring? Sometimes Ziva thought she must have been dropped on her head as a child. It was the only way to explain how screwed up she could sometimes be.

Abby noticed her as she stepped towards the group, and Ziva ripped her eyes from Tony as Abby squealed and lunged forward.

"Ziva!" she cried, and in the next moment Ziva had 120 pounds of excitable goth hanging from her neck. Although she'd seen her coming, Ziva didn't have enough body mass to absorb the blow and the two of them stumbled backwards. If not for the wall behind Ziva, they both would have ended up on the floor. As it was, Ziva just ended up slightly winded.

On the up side, she now had something to blame the tears in her eyes on.

"OhmyGod!" Abby was almost yelling. "Tony and Gibbs told us! We're so happy for you! And us! I mean, it's a huge deal for you and I don't want to take away from that because it's sort of like a second birthday and no one should have to share their birthday with anyone. But we're so relieved you're staying because we love you and we couldn't bear to lose you."

Ziva's head spun as she dealt with the extremely unexpected but deeply affecting words, the overwhelming urge to cry, Abby's ridiculously strong grip, and the lack of oxygen entering her body. She didn't mean to let out a sob, but she did. And that only made Abby's grip tighten.

"You're happy, right?" Abby checked.

Ziva's sob turned into a laugh. God, Abby was so..._Abby_. "Yes," she said into Abby's shoulder. "Very. Thank you."

Abby released her grip and held Ziva at arm's length as she eyed her cautiously. "Oh, my God. Are you going to cry? Ziva, don't cry. Because then I'll cry. And then Tony'll cry. And maybe McGee. _Definitely_ Palmer."

"Abs," Gibbs called, gently admonishing.

Abby turned with a look of surprise on her face, as if just remembering that there were other people in the room. "Sorry," she said, and then took Ziva's elbow and pulled her over to the rest of the group. "They want to congratulate you too."

McGee and Jimmy both reached out to her at the same time, but McGee was faster. He gave her a proud smile before kissing her cheek and giving her an awkward but welcome hug. "Congratulations, Ziva," he said against her ear. "I'm so happy you're not leaving me to deal with Tony on my own."

Ziva chuckled and squeezed him back. "I would not do that to you."

McGee let go of her, and Jimmy made another move to grab her before Ducky stepped forward and held her arms in warm, gentle hands.

"Ziva, my dear," he said, before lifting a hand to cup her cheek and smile at her proudly. "And now, with you, we are complete."

The tears in Ziva's eyes welled once more, but before Ducky was even clear of her, Jimmy was reaching in between them. He gathered Ziva against his chest in a hug even more awkward than the one he pulled her into when he announced his engagement. He managed to step on her foot, and Ziva's tears gave way to a laugh.

"It's so great, Ziva!" Jimmy said enthusiastically. "Especially since we just worked out the seating for the wedding reception, and if you weren't going to be there we would've had to do, like, four tables all over again."

Ziva snorted at the comment. It was exactly what she would have expected from him, and she was frankly relieved that Jimmy hadn't attempted anything more personal.

Although he'd already given his congratulations, Gibbs gave her a wink and a smile as he put an arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick squeeze. "It's good news, David," he told her. "Wasn't looking forward to training another probie."

Ziva appreciated his attempt to temper all the personal wishes with a professional word. She wasn't great at all this emotional stuff. In fact, she dealt with it about as well as Gibbs did. It was fitting, then, that he was the one to put her back on familiar ground. She smiled at him in thanks and then turned and gravitated towards Tony's desk. She sat on the edge of it beside her partner and pressed her arm against his. Tony barely nudged her in response, just enough to tell her he had her back, and she let his presence help calm her down from the emotional craziness.

"Thank you," she said to the group. "I am extremely happy to be staying here with you all." It was perhaps not the emotional speech that someone like Abby would have given, but it was no less sincere or heartfelt. Fortunately, her friends completely understood.

"We have to celebrate," Abby said. "Like, right now. Gibbs? Permission to leave early?"

Ziva swallowed at the brief, knowing look Gibbs sent her way. When he didn't say what she knew was on his mind, she wanted to hug him all over again.

"Sure," Gibbs said. "If Ziva's keen for that."

Ziva played the shot he had set up for her. "Actually, I have plans tonight, Abby. Unmovable plans." _Such as taking Tony home and devouring him_. "But how about you all come to my apartment tomorrow night? I will cook you dinner to thank you for your support." She held up a finger. "And for putting up with my perhaps difficult mood of late."

Abby slid into a smile before wrapping Ziva in another, much looser hug. "You haven't been difficult, Ziva," she said.

Ziva couldn't see Tony's face but she definitely caught the expressions of doubt Gibbs, Ducky and McGee made. She laughed, and patted Abby's arm. "Thank you for saying so, Abby." She looked around at the others. "So, you will come, yes? My place, tomorrow night."

They all nodded, but it was Tony who answered for them.

"Wouldn't miss your cooking for the world, Miss American Pie."

* * *

Ziva was running late for her plans with Tony. Really late. In fact, she didn't make it to his door until over two hours after he'd left the Navy Yard. Although she'd started packing up to leave just minutes after he'd left, she'd been held up when Director Vance had wandered into the bullpen to congratulate her on her news. She had thanked him profusely for his assistance, of course. But engaging him in conversation had ended up biting her in the ass. Vance had asked for her help on a hot issue on the Middle East desk, and Ziva hadn't felt that she could refuse. Vance had made a point of saying that he was sure she'd want to celebrate, and that it would only take an hour of her time. In the end, it had taken two.

She'd texted Tony to tell him what was going on so he knew she was going to be late, and that her tardiness didn't mean she was standing him up. Even still, she found herself almost running down the hallway to his apartment door. If she hadn't been so sexually frustrated for the last, well, five years, she would have found her extreme enthusiasm to see him tonight embarrassing. But she _was_ frustrated, and she _was_ desperate to get the physical side of this relationship off the ground. She was well past her moment of doubt from the afternoon, and now all she wanted to do was show him that she wanted this. Wanted _him_.

Her heart thudded against her ribs as she knocked on his door and waited for him to let her in. When he did, she took one look at his dressed-down, barefooted, glinting-eyed appearance and almost threw herself at him. Somehow, she kept her cool. And so did Tony.

"Oh, hey," he said casually, as if he hadn't been expecting to see her that night. Only the twinkle of mischief in his eye kept Ziva from flattening him with a glare.

"Am I interrupting anything?" she played along.

Tony lifted his eyes to the ceiling as if he were considering her question, and then shrugged and stood aside to let her in. "I guess not. I was thinking of reorganizing my DVD collection, but it can wait until another day."

Ziva slammed the door behind her and threw the deadbolt. "Thank you for making time for me."

Tony watched her closely as he backed up a few paces. "So. How's the Middle East?"

Ziva dropped her backpack onto the floor. He wanted to know? Fine. "It remains a politically and religiously volatile region." She bent to remove her ankle holster and stuck her pistol in her backpack. "The war is far from over." She stepped out of her shoes. "I doubt it will see peace in our lifetime." She pulled the band out of her hair and shook it out. "A large shipment of illegal weapons was just intercepted by our navy in the Caspian Sea." She slid off her jacket. "No casualties on our side."

As Ziva started advancing on him, Tony and his smirk started slowly backing up towards his bedroom. She stripped off her t-shirt and dropped it onto an armchair.

"But I have decided that I would like to visit Dubai again," she continued. She took off her belt and tossed it with her knife onto his desk. "Agent Morgan reminded me of all the camels they have there." As they stepped into his bedroom, she unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, and looked up at him from under her lashes. "And I do like a good hump."

Ziva waited for him to laugh at her bad joke, and then wriggled her jeans over her hips and down her legs. She crossed to him standing beside his bed, and tilted her face up to his. "Now. For the love of God, will you _please_ shut me up and kiss me?"

Tony's simulated casualness finally fell as he looked down at her with something in his eyes that she wasn't quite ready to call love. She pressed her body against his as his warm hands framed her face, and her heart was in her throat when he finally moved in to kiss her. She'd been prepared for something hard and intense; something akin to the clinging-to-control kisses she was used to from him. She was left surprised when Tony instead kissed her so softly and with so much warmth that Ziva felt her toes curling into the carpet. It was an _I love you_ kiss, not an _I'm going to eat you alive_ kiss. But after her moment of disorientation passed, Ziva realized that it was _exactly_ what she wanted.

After too few touches, Tony pulled back and held her face between his hands. "In case," he started, but his voice cut out and he had to clear his throat. His eyes darted away self-consciously just for a moment before he got a hold of himself again and met her eyes. "In case I wasn't clear this afternoon," he tried again, "I just want you to know that I think the INS made a really good decision on your case."

Ziva had to snort at his understatement. "Yes. I am also pleased with the outcome."

The corner of his mouth pulled up. "Not that I wouldn't have moved to Argentina. I Googled some of their TV shows and they've got some pretty racy, naked-type stuff."

"Are you talking right now?" she asked pointedly. Why was he trying to start a conversation when there was naked-type stuff to be had with _her?_

"A little bit, but it's important." He ran his hands down her arms and then gripped her hips as he looked down at her seriously. "For what it's worth, I'm really proud of you. It was really brave to do what you did. If I was in your position…I don't know if I could have done it."

His pride in her warmed her cheeks and made her heart thud. "If you had a good enough reason to," she started, but left the rest unsaid.

Tony shook his head, seemingly unconvinced of his own nerve. "Are you happy?"

Ziva laughed at what seemed like such an easy question, but when Tony stared back at her soberly, she took a few seconds to think. She laid her palms on his chest like a touchstone and closed her eyes, and she dared to concentrate on the mass of emotion running through her. Nerves, apprehension, excitement, relief…definitely happy. The feeling was imbedding itself in every pore and pushing aside all the worry and heavy darkness she'd carried for so long. In that moment she felt so light that she had to wriggle her toes to make sure her feet were still on the ground.

She opened her eyes again and looked at him without cloak or self-preservation. "Yes," she told him, her tone leaving no room for doubt. "I'm happy."

Her smile grew, but Tony felt his concern shrink only a little. He didn't know why he'd been expecting her to have a crisis of confidence right now, but his gut had been tight ever since she'd walked out of the evidence garage. He hadn't been able to relax all afternoon as he began to entertain the thought that she might suddenly find herself overwhelmed by the situation and start backing out. And when he'd received her text message saying she'd be late, the first thought he'd had was that she was buying herself time to sort out her emotions. He didn't like doubting her. Truth be told, he was pretty upset with himself for losing his faith—it was exactly what he'd done after he'd heard rumors that she was moving to L.A. and he'd managed to offend her pretty heinously. That she was standing here now and truthfully telling him that she was happy should have been all he needed to put his worries to bed. But there was still a little voice inside him—as irritating and persistent as a mosquito by his ear—that had to brave another argument and press the issue.

He swallowed nervously, and tried hard to soften his tone and remove any hint of a fight from his words. "And you still want to do this, right?" He had to know. He had to be sure of what she felt. And the dark, twisted part inside him couldn't resist giving her a final chance to exit stage left.

Instead of looking back at him with hurt, Ziva held his gaze steadily. It seemed to him that she'd already had this conversation with herself and her mind was made up. "I want to do this," she answered, nodding with determination. "Do you?"

He smiled easily. He knew why she'd asked, but he never would have promised to move to another country with her if he hadn't been completely sure of his feelings. He slid his hands up to hold her waist as he leaned in and brushed a kiss to the corner of her mouth. "Sweetcheeks," he murmured as he turned up the charm, "I'm yours untill we shoot each other."

Ziva let out a deep, throaty laugh, and then gripped his t-shirt in her fists as she turned her head just enough to touch her mouth to his. With the last of his doubts fading, Tony snaked his arms around her back and held her tightly against him as he pushed himself into the kiss. God, he loved kissing her. He would never tire of it. As much as he loved sex, there were times when he was content to just lie against a soft, warm woman and kiss her. He _loved_ to kiss. Although tonight would definitely not be one of those nights when kissing would be enough to sate his desires, by God, he'd enjoy the foreplay.

The touch of her tongue against his lips drove a stab of lust through him, and he started running his hands over her back and under the waistband of her underwear. He felt her hands slide under his t-shirt to run up his sides, and he drew his mouth away from hers just long enough to help her undress him and see that she was wearing that expression of hers that made his heart race and cock harden. Her dark, hooded eyes were barely focused, her lips parted and wanting and her forehead barely pinched as she concentrated on one thing only: him. He'd only seen that look for the first time a few months ago when he came up for air during their first surprise make-out session. It was still a relatively new expression to him—unfortunately she'd never regarded him like that across her desk—but he already knew the look by heart, and his body reacted accordingly.

He lowered his head to claim her mouth again as his hands quickly moved to the clasp of her bra. Their arms tangled as he tried to draw the straps down her arms at the same time she undid his pants and started pushing them off his hips, and if his mouth hadn't already been engaged in its favorite task, he would have laughed at her frustrated groan. He hooked his fingers into her underwear as he stepped out of his own, and he had the silk only halfway down her thighs before she broke the kiss and sat on his bed. He pulled her underwear the rest of the way down her legs and threw them in the vicinity of her jeans as Ziva looked up at him with the most heart-stoppingly effective _come hither_ look Tony had ever seen.

He leaned over her, ready to kiss her some more, but Ziva scooted backwards towards the middle of the mattress. She grabbed his hand and pulled him, and Tony kneeled on the bed as she lay down. He crawled over her and her hands slid over his shoulders as he braced his hands on either side of her.

"Come here," Ziva said softly, as if he might doubt where she wanted him.

Tony was more than happy to be told where to go. He brought his mouth down on her before his body followed, and he pressed his weight into her as he deepened the kiss. He felt her arms wrap around his back and one strong leg curl around his, and she moaned into his mouth as he slid his tongue against hers. His hand roamed her smooth, naked skin on its way down her side to her thigh, and then back up to her chest. He cupped her breast as his mouth left hers to explore her neck, and Ziva sighed his name in that moaning, wanting, blissful way that he'd heard half a dozen times before and knew he would _never_ get tired of.

As he touched and kissed and licked her skin, Ziva's leg tightened around his and he felt her hips wriggle against him. It was the wriggle that got his attention, and he realized just how hot his thigh pressed between her legs was getting. Of course it was obvious that she was turned on, but just like always, the physical evidence of the fact turned him on faster than even a look at her usually hidden skin did. He groaned her name against her neck as the base of his spine started tingling in anticipation of finally being inside her, and his cock throbbed with the thought. Jesus, this was actually going to happen.

There had been countless times in the last few months when they had gotten to this point. Lips swollen, eyes dark, bodies tense and instinct urging them on as they teetered on the precipice of something more. There had also been countless times that Tony had been a breath away from saying to hell with abstinence and tried to convince her to go further. The unfulfilled, empty and aching feeling inside he'd been left with every time they'd stuck to their guns had made life almost unbearable. But tonight he found he was glad they'd held out.

When he kissed her now, he didn't have to worry about committing the feeling to memory before she left the country. When his hands touched her skin, he didn't have to panic that he'd never feel it again. When he made love to her, it would not be tinged with the sadness that they might be saying goodbye. Tonight he would have no worries to detract from experiencing her to the full. Tonight he could let himself go and act on every instinct, and enjoy every single moment for what it was.

He'd always imagined that the first time they did this, things would be explosive. They'd been working each other up for this moment for five years, and all their practice sessions over the last few months had certainly pointed towards a scene-ending bodice-ripper. He knew what it felt like to have her hands grabbing at him all demanding and insistent. He knew how it felt to have her body arch up beneath him as his mouth devoured her. He knew the feeling of her strong thighs tightening around his hips as he ground his hardness between her legs. He knew the roughness and accent of her voice when she spoke words that made him hard. He knew the smell and taste of her skin as her body heated with desire. And he knew how intensely his body reacted when he wanted her so badly that cognitive thought disappeared and all he was left with was instinct. It was hard to imagine that the night would not devolve into a display of raw lust.

But that wasn't what was happening. Oh, it was still intense, and Tony had felt himself start to shake from the moment her naked body hit his mattress. But where he'd expected something hurried and desperate, they now both seemed eager to take it slow. He didn't want to fuck right now. There'd be plenty of time for that (probably a little later on tonight). What he wanted now was to take his time, memorize every second, and show her he loved her, even if neither of them were ready to say the words just yet.

And so that was what he did. He took his time kissing his way around her body, making her sigh and cry and even laugh. He stroked her skin softly until her whole body was burning hot and so sensitive that two fingertips on her wrist made her whole arm erupt in gooseflesh. He stretched his fingers inside her, over and over until she shook and gasped and curled around him. And when he finally sank into her, he had to squeeze his eyes shut and hold still, fingers digging into her hips, so that he wouldn't embarrass himself. She just felt too good. Too hot, too tight, too wet, too perfect.

He flipped her on top of him to give him more time to control himself, and Ziva continued to take it slow. His eyes were fixed to her as she took her time riding him, rolling her hips and grinding back on him and moaning with every pass. He couldn't believe that anyone could possibly look as good as she did right then, with her hair falling about her shoulders and starting to stick to her slick skin, her lips so pink and swollen, her eyes so dark with lust, and the muscles in her stomach and thighs flexing and lengthening as she moved her body with primitive instinct. He didn't think he'd ever seen anything so beautiful, and he knew he'd be seeing the picture in his dreams for the rest of his life.

He didn't know how long she rode him like that. The heart-stopping bliss seemed to go on forever, and yet when she started to shake and pant and curl her fingers into his chest, he wasn't ready for it to be over. But then her accent got thicker as she chanted his name, and her movements got faster and harder, and she started squeezing his cock so hard it took his breath away. He ran his hands all over her and angled his hips to try to get her where she was desperate to be, and within seconds she started to fall apart. He wrapped his arms around her back to pull her closer to him and held on tight as she ground herself into him and screamed her release.

Ziva's head dropped to his shoulder, and he tried to take it slow as she rode the wave and moaned into his ear. He was so close to his own release though, and he clenched his jaw tightly as he shook with the effort of staying relatively still when all he wanted to do now was flip her over and pound into her until he got to the place she was in. He could feel her muscles clamping and releasing around him and her heart hammering against his chest like she'd just run a marathon. The smell of her like this made his head light and his mouth water, and his hips bucked under her of their own accord. Right before he lost control of himself, Ziva dragged her lips up his neck to his ear.

"Come on, Tony," she panted huskily. "Don't you dare stop now."

He growled with relief as he flipped them over and pressed into her again, and he met her eyes as his hips set a quick rhythm. Ziva lifted her hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing over his lips, and she gazed up at him in bliss. He lowered his head to kiss her, desperate for even more contact as the pressure built within him and he hurtled towards release. Ziva pressed her tongue into his mouth and squeezed her thighs around his hips, and the tingle that was setting his spine on fire started spreading through his while body. Three hard thrusts later, all the hair on his body stood on end and the fire shot through every nerve ending. He growled half her name into her mouth as pleasure took him over, and conscious thought left him until all he became was a mass of sensation.

As he calmed down, Tony slowly became aware of Ziva's hands stroking up and down his back and her soft lips on his neck. He turned his head to catch her in a kiss before rolling off her and gathering her to his chest. Ziva slid her leg between his and pressed a kiss to the underside of his chin.

"That was a relief," she sighed.

Tony chuckled at the obvious statement. "Yeah."

"No," Ziva said, shaking her head when it was clear he didn't get it, before revising her thought. "Well, _yes_, but I meant it's a relief it was so good."

Tony ran his hand down her still-hot back to squeeze her butt. "Yeah, it was," he grinned.

She smirked at him before kissing him again. "I don't know how I would have handled it if after all this, we weren't sexually compatible."

He would have been vaguely offended, but he knew where she was coming from. They were both highly sexual people. If the sex sucked, that would've been a problem. But it didn't. He drove his fingers into her hair at the base of her skull and kissed her deeply. "Not worth thinking about," he told her when he broke the kiss. "It's irrelevant."

Her hand rested on his jaw again as she looked at him across the pillow. Her eyes were still hooded but they were clear, and her small smile warmed him to the core. Tony felt his chest constrict in the way it often did when he looked at her and couldn't quite believe that she'd chosen to be with him, and he had the almost overwhelming urge to tell her he loved her. But enough of his intelligence had returned that he knew it would be a bad idea. It was too soon—for both of them. The day would come when they had that talk, but first they needed to get used to this relationship and everything it meant.

But that didn't mean that he couldn't look at her with his heart in his eyes and hope that she knew. If his expression was half as open as the look she was giving him right now, he knew for sure that she would understand.

* * *

They woke in the morning, sleepy and sore and snuggly, to the sound of Tony's cell phone ringing. Tony reached out to grab it off his bedside table before the trill could jolt him too far out of the delicious cocoon of Ziva he'd woken to, and he made a point of brushing a kiss to the back of her shoulder and whispering a good morning before he answered the call.

"DiNozzo," he said as Ziva rolled over to face him.

"Hey. We still good for today?" Josh said in his ear.

Tony didn't answer right away. He was disoriented from hearing Josh when he'd been expecting a dead body wake up call from Gibbs, confused about what they were supposed to be on for, and utterly distracted by Ziva's soft, sleepy face and pink lips. She gave him a gentle smile before pressing a kiss to the hollow of his throat and sliding a smooth, strong leg between his.

"Um…?" he grunted at Josh.

"We were going to meet at the courts near my place then have lunch," Josh helped out.

His social calendar slowly came into focus in Tony's mind. It would have come faster if Ziva wasn't sliding her hand around his hip and kissing his chest.

"Right," he said at length. He wondered if he should just turn Josh down without an explanation or just come out and say _Ziva's a citizen now, so we're going to be having sex for the next 48 hours. Maybe we can meet up next month?_

"Dead guy?" Josh guessed, picking up Tony's hesitance.

"Naked woman," Tony found himself correcting.

Ziva lifted her head to look at him with the beginnings of a smirk that told him she wasn't embarrassed by him being so open. "Are you referring to me, or trying to get my attention?" she asked, her accent more pronounced with her sleepiness.

Tony smiled. "Referring to you."

Josh had heard the exchange. "Is that Ziva? Oh my God, finally!" Tony heard him call out to his wife. "Hey, Cel? Tony finally slept with Ziva!"

Tony lifted his eyes to the ceiling with mild irritation as he heard Celeste yell back to Josh. "Jesus Christ! Are you fucking with me?"

Tony cut back in. "Okay, I might have to postpone, but—"

"No, don't," Ziva said with a shake of her head.

Tony frowned at her. "Hang on," he said to Josh, and then covered the speaker with his hand. "Don't?" he echoed.

"If you had plans you should keep them," Ziva said.

Tony eyed her warily. "You're not freaking out right now, are you?"

Ziva slid her hand down to trail her fingers over his cock, drawing a sigh out of him. "No. I just don't want to have one of those relationships where we always have to ask permission to do something with our friends. Or where we have to be joined at the hips all the time." She paused and frowned. "I must have that wrong. I would quite like to be joined to your hips."

Tony didn't bother explaining the idiom. "So, you're dumping me?" He actually really liked the sound of what she'd suggested—they were both pretty happily independent people—but he couldn't resist baiting her.

Ziva swiped her thumb over his tip. "Do you have to leave now?"

"Hour or so," he sighed as semi-hard started turning all-hard.

"And you'll come to my place tonight?"

"Yes." She was making them all dinner.

She kissed the underside of his chin. "Then I am not dumping you."

He caught her lips for a quick kiss and then brought the phone back to his ear. "I'll meet you in about an hour and a half," he told Josh, and then hung up. He tossed the phone onto the mattress behind him and then rolled Ziva under him with a smile. "Okay, lady. You got me for an hour. Make the most of it."

* * *

It was 59 minutes later when Tony walked Ziva to her car. She'd made the most of her allotted time and then some, and Tony was now wondering if he'd really be able to get through another 90 minutes or so of a basketball game without having to stop for a nap and a quick physio session.

Ziva opened her door and gave him a teasing smile. "So, I will see you tonight, yes? Enjoy your boy date."

Tony let that go. "Should I bring over my pjs?"

Ziva looked him up and down before shaking her head. "No." She tugged his sleeve in a gesture about as playful as she would ever get and then got into her car.

Tony swung her door shut and sent her a wide grin through the window. _No_ meant they'd be having another naked sleepover, and Tony hoped it would be the beginning of a new daily habit.

God knew he had an addictive personality.

**

* * *

Eh, not my best. But I was stuck on this for more than a month and I have to let it go or we won't ever finish this thing. I hope it sufficed. **


	13. Part 13: The Confrontations

**A/N: Let's clean this filth up a bit, shall we?  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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* * *

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**Part 13: The Confrontations**

Tony had just walked into his apartment after lunch with Josh when his cell phone rang. His head immediately filled with thoughts of tanned skin, dark curls and heavily accented screams, and he smiled indulgently as he fished the phone out of his pocket. Maybe they could get in a few more rounds before dinner. Maybe they could _cancel_ dinner and just spend the night—

His thoughts died when he saw Gibbs' name on caller ID. It had the same effect on his libido as a bucket of cold water being poured over his head, and he physically shivered before he answered the call. "DiNozzo."

"You at home?" Gibbs asked.

Tony was used to his boss coming straight to the point, and the lack of a greeting didn't bother him in the least. "Yeah. We got a case?"

"Nope," Gibbs said. "You alone?"

Tony narrowed his eyes at the kitchen counter as he tried to work out what was going on. "Yeah."

"I'll be there in 15," Gibbs told him, and then hung up before Tony had a chance to argue.

Tony sighed to himself as he slid his phone back into his pocket. Gibbs only ever visited Tony's place when there was something big going on, or when he had to deliver bad news. He was never going to just pop around on a Saturday afternoon for a beer or to play X-Box. The fact that he was coming around now—and not giving Tony any time to prepare for the visit—suggested that the boss had something big on his mind that he needed to share.

Only an idiot wouldn't know what this was about.

Instead of panicking or bolting for the airport in the hopes of avoiding the conversation, Tony calmly headed for the coffee machine and got it going. He wasn't so stupid or naive to think that Gibbs wouldn't have anything to say about half of his team pairing up. He'd known that this conversation was coming. Frankly, he was surprised it hadn't come before now. He hadn't exactly been preparing for it or writing down dot point arguments to raise, but Tony was sure he could handle whatever Gibbs had to say. He just had to keep the conversation civil and avoid smart-ass jokes...if at all possible.

The knock on his door came exactly 15 minutes later, causing Tony's eyes to roll at the maddening punctuality of people trained by the military. He opened his door to find Gibbs standing on the doorstep in his civvies—cargo pants and a hardware store t-shirt over a long-sleeved t-shirt. Tony blinked at the informal ware. It'd been ages since he'd seen Gibbs so casual, and he had to wonder if he'd done it on purpose. Gibbs didn't look anything like the boss Tony encountered every day in the bullpen. Did that mean he was going to approach this conversation as a friend?

Tony stood aside. "Hey. Come in."

Gibbs passed him with a nod and gravitated towards the kitchen. Tony supposed he could smell the coffee. He didn't bother asking if Gibbs wanted a cup. He just poured it out and slid the mug over as Gibbs took a seat at the kitchen island.

"We need to talk about you and Ziva," Gibbs said, getting straight to the point.

Tony nodded and put on his adult voice. "Yeah. Do you think she should be here for this?" He wasn't seriously asking, and he knew Gibbs wouldn't agree. But he wanted to make the point anyway: she was part of this too, and her opinion was as important as Tony's.

Gibbs gave him a stare, but it was one of his less confrontational ones. "I want to talk to you first. About what you're doing."

Tony brought his own cup of coffee to the island and sat down. "Okay. What's your biggest concern?" he asked calmly, skipping right over the part of the conversation that would establish that they were actually beginning a relationship. Gibbs knew it. No point in insulting both of them or wasting breath on pretending they weren't. "Do you think we won't be able to do our jobs anymore?"

Gibbs stared a bit more, and Tony recognized it as his 'forming an appropriate response' stare. "What if you break up?" he finally said.

Tony felt a stab of hurt over Gibbs going straight to the doom and gloom place. How was that for lack of faith? "I'd hope we'd both be able to remember that we're professionals," Tony replied, and then leant forward on his elbows. "Look, I really don't want to get into an argument over this. It won't achieve anything for any of us. But I need to be clear; what Ziva and I do together isn't about you. And I don't think you can suggest that you get a say in it."

Gibbs weighed that up as he rubbed the rim of his mug with his finger. "I do when you bring whatever problem you might be having between you into work with you."

It was an argument Tony had anticipated, and he had a response ready to go. "Last week you heard the two of us screaming at each other, yeah?"

"Oh, yeah," Gibbs smirked, although without malice.

"We weren't even done arguing when we attended that crime scene," Tony told him. "But how would you rate our conduct when we arrived?"

Gibbs started to raise an eyebrow, and Tony could see one of his standard comments about not being good enough form on his lips. But that wouldn't fly right now. Not when they needed to be honest.

"Seriously now, Gibbs," he cut in, pulling him up before Gibbs could make the misstep. "We cooperated. We collected every piece of evidence. We talked to witnesses. We spoke to each other with courtesy and we helped each other out. And all that time, we were _furious_ with each other. Did you see us bringing our problem to work?"

"No," Gibbs allowed. "You were capable as ever at the scene. But at the office?" He shook his head. "You two have been a pain in the ass lately."

Instead of arguing, Tony took it on the chin. If they were being honest, he was sure Gibbs was probably right. Arguing the point and refusing to cop to the truth on the point wasn't going to help the rest of his arguments gain any ground. "True. We've been feeling a lot of stress. But you only saw that in the last few weeks, right?" He paused as Gibbs shrugged a yes. "The stress has been there for _months_. We held it together as long as we could."

Gibbs sipped his coffee slowly, and Tony wondered if he was trying to hold his tongue until the urge to snap at him passed. "You did okay," he finally said. "Till the home stretch. Then you choked."

"But we did our jobs," Tony argued back. "And the last few months have hardly been usual. How often in the next 40 years are we going to have to wait to find out if one of us is going to be booted from the country?"

Gibbs didn't hold back his chuckle. "With Ziva involved?"

Tony stared at him, and then succumbed to the amused smile that tugged his lips. "Yeah, okay," he allowed. He was well aware of the fact that nothing about Ziva was ordinary. He sipped his coffee and got back on topic. "Gibbs, I get where you're coming from. But I'd appreciate it if you didn't presume to know how it's going to be in the future, and that it's going to be bad." He looked his mentor in the eye. "You're family, Gibbs. You should have more faith in both of us than that."

He watched a flicker of hurt cross Gibbs' face before the poker face champion was back. "You think I don't have faith in you?"

"You just suggested that you didn't think we'd be able to work together when we're fighting," Tony pointed out, his voice rising slightly now. "_And_ you suggested that we're going to break up. So yeah, I'm getting the vibe that you might not have a whole lot of faith in our ability to do this successfully."

"Statistically," Gibbs started, and that single word and all it implied was enough to break Tony's grip on his composure.

"You're thinking of us as a statistic?" he cut in, letting his hurt and shock color his voice.

Gibbs' expression was tinged with regret, but he delivered the truth that was hard to hear. "Sometimes things don't work out, Tony," he said gently. "Even if you want them to."

Tony stared at him. The statement was so obvious that he wanted to laugh, and his reaction to it was enough to clue him in that there had to be something else that Gibbs was trying to say. He could have smacked himself when he worked it out.

"I'm not you, Gibbs," he said, finding his calm again, but making damn sure that Gibbs knew his argument wasn't going to fly. "I know the rule comes from your personal experience, and I'm not trying to play down what you must have gone through. But your history should not dictate my future. I can take your advice—and I do, every day—but I get to decide what to do with it."

They held gazes, Gibbs weighing up whether to argue more and Tony daring him to try it, until Gibbs finally sighed, nodded and looked away.

"You sure?" Gibbs asked, but Tony didn't hear any fight in his voice.

"Five years of thinking about it, Gibbs," he pointed out, unable to keep from smirking at frustration he still felt over waiting. "I've looked at it from every angle. The rose-colored glasses came off years ago. We've gone through periods when all we did was fight. Helped each other through the worst times. Seen each other at our lows. I've wanted to strange her more times than I can count." He rolled his eyes, and then looked at Gibbs seriously. "But I love her more than anything I've ever had, boss. I'm sure. She's…" he paused as he tried to think of how to put it into words. "She's the bit that's missing in me."

They had another staring match that ended when Gibbs nodded and shot him a brief smile. There was something in his eyes that made Tony think that he'd only just made up his mind about how to deal with the situation that second. For a moment, Tony wondered if the whole conversation could have been avoided if he's just opened with the 'L' word.

Gibbs leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table. "Can I give you some advice?" he asked, and then cocked his head to the side with a smirk. "That you can decide how to use, of course."

Tony had enough grace to look contrite, and nodded.

"Don't be too stubborn or too proud." He paused, and dropped his eyes again as he considered whatever moments in his life that had taught him such a lesson. "With Jenny...I wasn't willing to compromise. I wasn't willing to back down. She wanted one thing, I didn't think it was right for her. I dug my heels in and..." He trailed off to take a few deep breaths. When he met Tony's gaze again, his eyes were full of regret. "Don't let your pride get in the way."

Tony couldn't remember another time when Gibbs had been so open about his personal life. That he was doing so now was enough to make Tony sit up and take notice of what was being said. It was only a bonus that the advice was so solid.

"That's good advice," Tony said. "Thank you."

Gibbs nodded, and Tony watched as he played with the handle of his coffee mug. Had he ever seen Gibbs so uncomfortable before? He doubted it. It wasn't a feeling that looked good on him, and Tony wasn't surprised when he quickly moved the conversation along and ended the awkward moment.

"Just so we're clear, I'm going to give you two crap about this until the day you die."

Tony laughed as the tension broke. "I guess that's only fair."

Gibbs sipped his coffee to hide his smirk. "So, when are you getting married? Havin' babies?"

Tony sighed, but took the dig with good humor. He really should have seen this coming. "You'll be the first to know."

"I'm a pretty good babysitter."

Tony refused to rise to the bait. "Okay, I don't know why everyone thinks you're such a grumpy bastard. You're clearly hilarious."

Gibbs smiled, and then set his coffee down. "Look," he began, turning serious again. "I didn't want to have this conversation. But we're a close team, and the mood of one affects the rest. I might be personally happy for you, and don't think I'm not. But it's my job to look out for this team."

Tony nodded easily. He did understand that, and knew he and Ziva were putting him in a difficult position. It was why he'd made such an effort to stay calm and reasonable. "Yeah," he said, and then gestured between them. "We're good."

Gibbs watched him closely. "I do have faith in you," he insisted.

And just like always, Gibbs' words of encouragement made Tony smile. "Thanks, boss."

* * *

Ziva had just put the main course for dinner in the oven when the first knock sounded on her door. She glanced at the clock and glared. It was still half an hour before the team was supposed to arrive for dinner, and so she knew it could only be one of two people. Tony, arriving early for a quickie. Or Gibbs, arriving early to talk to her about what her intentions with his eldest child were. Her money was on Gibbs. Tony had texted her that afternoon to tell her Gibbs had invited himself around for a Rule 12-related chat, and warned her that he thought the boss might be coming her way.

She wiped her hands on her thighs and went to the door. Sure enough, Gibbs was waiting in the hallway with a bottle of wine in his hand. He gave her a warm smile.

"Shalom," she greeted, and stepped aside.

Gibbs joined her in the apartment and handed over the bottle of red. "Hope we're having beef."

"I am cooking for a Marine, a cop and an Irishman. What do you think?"

Gibbs smirked and followed her into the kitchen. "McGee's been looking a little anemic lately."

"He has promised me it is just his Irish complexion." She rested her hand on the cupboard with her glasses. "Would you like wine to start, or beer?" Gibbs cocked his head to the side as he looked at her, and she read his answer in his eyes. "Beer it is."

As she crossed to the fridge, Gibbs leaned against the counter by the stove. "I'm proud of you, Ziva."

She turned to him with a raised eyebrow and handed over his beer. "For managing to find enough food to feed you, Tony, McGee _and_ Ducky?"

He allowed her a smile, but she knew he wouldn't indulge the joke further. "I don't underestimate how much you love Israel. Or how hard it would have been to decide to move away for good."

Ziva swallowed down a wave of guilt. As happy as she was today, and as much as she knew she'd done the right thing to ensure her safety, it didn't mean her heart didn't ache for what she'd given up. "The decision was more or less made for me." She knew she wouldn't need to explain the comment to Gibbs.

"Are you still being followed?" he asked, catching on.

She weighed up the pros and cons of honesty, and decided that acknowledging that her father still had her under surveillance was better than lying to him. "From time to time. But I have not had a visit from Officer Bashan for a while." She reached for a slotted spoon to stir the pasta cooking for the first course. "I believe he or other officers would have made a more serious move by now if they truly wanted to harm me. Or any of you."

Gibbs nodded, and she knew he trusted her assessment. "Don't get complacent," he warned.

Ziva knew the warning came from a place of love, rather than mistrust. "I won't," she promised.

Gibbs watched her carefully. "Have you heard from Eli yet?"

Ziva turned away from him in case the flash of panic she felt showed on her face. Discussing her citizenship news with her father was something she was absolutely dreading. "No."

"You going to tell him?"

She took a deep breath. "I suppose so. I have not thought about it yet," she lied. "But tonight, I want to celebrate. Not think about how Eli will react."

"It's not the only thing you're celebrating," Gibbs said gently.

Ziva braced herself. Tony had been right. She was about to get a Rule 12 smackdown. It was a conversation she wanted to avoid only slightly less than a discussion about how her father would react to his only remaining child giving up her Israeli citizenship. Not because she didn't want to be yelled at, but because she didn't want to tell him he was wasting his breath in telling her to stay away from Tony.

"No, it isn't," she agreed. "But tonight is not about that. It is not something I would ask you to celebrate with us."

Gibbs leaned closer, trying to draw her eye contact. "You think I wouldn't?"

She glanced at him. "Well, you have these rules," she began.

"So, prove me wrong."

Ziva frowned at the pasta boiling on her stove. That was _not_ what she had been expecting to hear. Either Tony was a closet debating champion, or Gibbs was getting soft. Be that as it may, she wanted to make sure he understood that this relationship had _nothing_ to do with Gibbs. "No. I am only focused on proving to ourselves that we can do it."

If he took offence, Gibbs didn't show it. "I hope that you do." He waited for Ziva to look up and smile at him before adding, "I'm gonna be beyond pissed if you don't."

Ziva wasn't exactly sure what he meant by that. Was he referring to the possibility of a break-up hurting the team? Or was he actually saying that he wanted them to succeed? She wasn't sure she wanted to know the answer, so she didn't press for clarification.

"I'll tell you what I told DiNozzo," Gibbs went on. "I am going to give both of you crap about this for the rest of your life. It's the only way I'm going to be able to deal with it." He was smirking as he said it, and it was the only thing that kept Ziva from smacking him in the face with her spoon. He was encouraging them, not admonishing.

She shrugged her agreement of the new rule. "Fine," she said, and then decided to change the subject. The spotlight on her was beginning to irritate her eyes. "So, are you going to bring Lola to Jimmy's wedding?"

Gibbs' smile slowly slid from his face until he was staring at her in warning. But Ziva didn't want to back down.

"We just discussed my private life," she pointed out. "Turnabout is fair play. Or something."

Gibbs continued to stare at her, so she turned her back to look through the fridge. Perhaps it would be easier for him to talk about the woman he'd been seeing for the last two months if they didn't have to make eye contact.

"Possibly," Gibbs finally answered.

Ziva smiled with victory at the lettuce and then closed the fridge. "You like her," she prompted. When he didn't reply, she glanced over her shoulder at him. He was staring at his beer bottle like it was a suspect in interrogation, and Ziva tried to be as encouraging of him as he had been of her. "It's good, Gibbs. I am not making fun of you."

Gibbs lifted his eyes, and Ziva almost clutched her chest in shock when she saw the flicker of an infatuated smile cross his face. Holy mother, he must have _really_ liked her. "Yes, I like her," he confirmed. "And if you breathe a word of that to your dearly beloved, I'm gonna have one of you sent to an outpost in Alaska."

Ziva couldn't hold back her smile at Gibbs of all people getting mushy. But she stayed true to her word and did not make fun of him. "What does Lola do?"

Gibbs sighed at her persistence and went for a little walk around the kitchen as she cooked. "She owns a record store."

Ziva wondered if it really was a record store, or whether Gibbs was just defaulting to his out-dated vernacular. "That's nice. When are you seeing her again?"

Behind her, Gibbs heaved an epic sigh. "Tomorrow, Ziva," he replied, irritation creeping into his tone. "She wants to go to a music…thing."

"Sounds cozy," Ziva commented, grinning with glee at managing to get so much juicy information out of him.

Gibbs went silent, and Ziva was just beginning to feel the tingle of an impending slap to the back of her head when there was another knock on the door. She slinked out of the kitchen before Gibbs got a hand on her, and swung open the door to find an enormous bouquet of yellow and white flowers hovering above six-inch PVC boots.

"Abby," she guessed.

"Hi Ziva!" came Abby's voice from behind the bouquet. "I bought you a little congratulations gift!"

Ziva reached behind the bouquet to take Abby's elbow and guide her into the apartment. "Abby, it's beautiful."

Abby held the bouquet out to the side of her, and wiped pollen off her nose before favoring Ziva with a huge smile. "You like 'em?"

"Very much." She took the heavy bouquet off Abby, and gestured at the kitchen. "Gibbs is already here."

Ziva watched Abby's head twist around, and her smile grow even more at the sight of their boss. "Hi Gibbs!" she called, and trotted over to give him a tight hug.

Gibbs patted her back as Ziva placed the bouquet on the counter and crouched to look under the sink for a vase.

"So, how was last night?"

Ziva almost smacked the back of her head on the sink at Abby's question. She looked up at her friend with wide, shocked eyes. Was she really asking what Ziva thought she was asking? "It was very nice," she replied carefully.

Abby's face fell into an expression of horror, and she touched her hand to her chest. "Oh no! It was only _nice_?"

Ziva gaped. Abby really _was_ asking what Ziva thought she was asking. Right there in front of Gibbs, who appeared to know exactly what Abby was getting at.

"You two know I'm standing here, right?" he asked.

Ziva glanced at him, and if she thought he looked uncomfortable during the conversation about _his_ love life, he was clearly in agony now. Ziva swallowed hard and stood, but before she could politely tell Abby that she didn't want to discuss with her what sex with Tony was like, Abby waved her hands through the air.

"Oh, sorry Gibbs." She winked at Ziva. "We'll talk about it later."

Ziva dreaded the conversation. "Would you like a drink?"

Abby nodded and slipped her coat off her shoulders. "I'll have what he's having."

Ziva grabbed a bottle from the fridge and handed it to Abby in exchange for her jacket. As she went back to the entryway to hang it up, she heard Abby have a completely indiscreet discussion with Gibbs.

"You know about them, right?" she said. "Because you'd have to be stupid not to, and you're not a stupid man."

"Thank you."

"So you know, right?"

"I know."

"And you're fine with it?" If the tone in Abby's voice was anything to go by, it wasn't a question so much as a threat.

"Fine."

"Yay!" Abby cried, clapping a little as her usual sunniness returned to her voice.

Ziva returned to the kitchen and caught Gibbs' eye. His tough Marine mask seemed to be moments away from cracking with laughter, and Ziva was sure she didn't want to know why. She picked up the vase and filled it with water, and as she unwrapped the cellophane at the bottom of the bouquet she gave Abby a sidelong look. The woman looked like she was about to start jumping up and down.

"You seem especially happy tonight, Abby," she commented.

Abby's eyes widened and filled with something akin to affection. "Because so much good has come from the past two days, Ziva! Your citizenship and you and Tony—"

"How exactly do you know about me and Tony?" Ziva asked, not unkindly. She had thought that the two of them had managed to be quite discreet about their relationship for the last few months, but now it appeared that everyone already knew.

Abby snorted and looked at Gibbs, as if the two of them were sharing a joke. "Um, because I have eyes?" Abby replied. "And also, Tony and I had a big talk at the engagement party."

Ziva's eyes went to the ceiling. She _knew_ they'd been something going on with them that night. "Did you?"

"Oh, don't worry," Abby said quickly. "He was totally complimentary of you."

"Well, that was nice of him," Ziva drawled. She put the flowers in the vase and leaned back to admire them. "They are lovely, Abby."

"They're for all of us," she said.

Ziva cocked her head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Abby stepped over and fingered the blooms. "They represent all the states we're all from, all coming together in one big, beautiful bunch," she explained. "See, the roses are the state flower of New York, so that's Tony. The magnolias are from Louisiana, which is me. The thistle is from Scotland, which is Ducky. McGee's the Maryland black-eyed Susan, the Pennsylvania mountain laurel is for Gibbs, and you, Ziva, are the dogwood from Virginia."

Ziva stared at her, and then back at the bouquet. She had assumed that Abby had just asked the florist to gather a few of these and a couple of those. But the pink thistle amongst the remaining yellow and white flowers now made complete sense. She looked back at Abby again, and then leaned in to give her friend a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Thank you, Abby."

Abby squeezed her back. "You're welcome," she chirped. "They look kind've cool together, huh?"

Ziva glanced at Gibbs over Abby's shoulder, and he gave her a wink that made her smile. "Yes. They do."

* * *

An hour later, Ziva was serving up their main course when she heard Tony enter the kitchen. His body pressed against her back before he swept her hair over her shoulder and kissed her neck. The action brought butterflies to her stomach, but she teased him.

"Oh, McGee," she sighed.

Tony squeezed her butt and leant his back against the counter. "How did you go with Gibbs?" he asked quietly.

She looked up at him and resisted the urge to lean into him and lick his bottom lip. "Good. I think you must have tenderized him."

Tony shook his head. "I just told him that history doesn't always repeat."

"Well, he certainly seemed to listen to you." She glanced over her shoulder to check that Gibbs wasn't coming, and then smiled up at Tony. "I got him to tell me a bit about Lola."

Tony's eyebrows shot upwards. "I swear to God, you have a death wish. What did he say?"

"She owns a record store," Ziva told him. "They are going to some musical or concert tomorrow. He's thinking about bringing her to Jimmy's wedding, and he likes her _a lot_." She paused to point her spatula at him. "Don't let on that you know that. I told him I would not say anything to you."

Tony made a face. "You're my partner. You _have_ to tell me."

Ziva nodded. "I know. But I didn't tell him that I already knew that rule."

Tony grinned. "He's really thinking of bringing her to the wedding?"

"I will try to very gently steer him in that direction," Ziva said.

He looked down at her with clear affection and awe. "My God, you're devious," he declared.

She winked at him. "Yes. But I am only using my powers for good, now."

Tony caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger and leaned down to kiss her. "I don't suppose you'd be willing to tell everyone that you ruined the rest of dinner and kick them out?"

"No."

"Fair enough." He pushed himself off the counter and walked around her to stand on her other side, giving her room to plate up the main course.

"You know what I was thinking?" she asked.

Tony nodded as he gazed at the filling plates. "We're gonna have to get really good at quickies," he murmured. Ziva frowned and looked at him, and when Tony's brain finally caught up with his mouth, he looked up at her with innocence. "What? That's not what I was thinking. What were _you_ thinking?"

She regarded him for a moment, and then replied, "I don't knew whether to tell McGee and Ducky."

Tony snagged a piece of carrot from a plate and shrugged at her like he didn't know what she was talking about.

"About this," she said, gesturing between them. "Gibbs knows and Abby knows."

The corner of his mouth lifted. "You want to make an announcement? That's very formal for you."

Ziva shook her head. "No, that's not what I am saying. But if the others know…"

Tony shrugged again. "You can tell them. I'm not good at making speeches."

Ziva almost choked on her laugh. "Oh no, Anthony DiNozzo is _terrible_ at making things up on the fly and speaking in front of people," she said sarcastically, and then narrowed her eyes suspiciously. "Unless he is asked to develop wedding vows. In which case, I hear he is quite good at it."

Tony cleared his throat of the ball of panic that suddenly appeared, and then gave her a casual smile. "You don't know that. You haven't heard them yet. They might be awful and cause Breena to say _I'm off to Timbuktu _instead of _I do_. And anyway, I only gave him a word or two to use. He probably won't use them at all." Ziva eyed him skeptically, so he moved the conversation along before she demanded more information. "And about that other thing? I'm pretty sure McGee already knows."

Ziva put her hand on her hips and sighed. "Exactly how many people have you told?"

"Exactly? Zero," he said honestly. "But I may have had some broad discussions with close friends about the general idea."

"Abby," Ziva counted off. "McGee, Gibbs…"

Tony scratched his chin. "Um, Palmer," he mumbled. She looked confused by that one, so he had to explain. "I never said your name. It was just in a general conversation about, you know, feelings and stuff."

Ziva breathed out a laugh. "You and Jimmy Palmer had a discussion about your feelings?" She cocked her head to the side and looked at him with sympathy. "You are finding it hard to let him go, aren't you?"

Tony broke into a smile at her continued ribbing of his friendship with Jimmy and gently nudged her. "Stop throwing it in my face. I'm very fragile."

She finished serving and then turned her body to him. "We're going to have to get really good at quickies?" she said, echoing his earlier, out-of-place statement.

"We work really long days," Tony explained. "And we spend plenty of nights at the office as well. We've got to get good at seeing a 15-minute window of opportunity and taking it. I'd rather not sacrifice our sex life for work."

She raised an eyebrow. "And you think I would?"

He smiled wolfishly. "No. If your performance last night is any indication, I think you'd try to make _any_ window of opportunity work."

She pressed herself against his side and gave him the teasing look that he was so well acquainted with. "Are you propositioning me right now?"

One eyebrow went up before Tony glanced out of the kitchen to where their friends sat in the dining room. "Uh, I wasn't. But if we move to the other corner behind you there…"

"Maybe later," she said, and gave him a quick kiss. "I agree. We will have to get good at quickies. Can you carry three plates?"

Tony loaded up his forearm and both hands with their dinner. "I spent summers in high school waiting tables at Dad's country club."

Ziva nodded as she gathered the remaining plates. "I spent my summers in high school learning how to build bombs."

"Hunh," Tony grunted, wondering where to go from there. "It's crazy how alike our childhoods were."

Ziva smiled and followed him to the dining room. They served their friends and Ziva had just taken her seat when Tony grinned at her roguishly from across the table. She knew he was about to do something to annoy her.

"So, Tim, Ducky, there's something that Ziva really wants me to announce."

Ziva narrowed her eyes at his teasing smirk. "Oh, you little…" she started under her breath.

McGee looked between the two of them. "Um, I don't think you need to announce it, Tony. It's kind of obvious."

"Yes, indeed," Ducky chimed in. "However, what the news lacks in surprise, it makes up for in felicity.

Ziva tore her death glare from Tony to favor Ducky with a smile. "Thank you, Ducky."

Ducky tipped his glass at her. "Might one assume that you'll be following in Mr Palmer's footsteps soon?"

Two seconds of stunned silence was followed by a gale of laughter led by Abby and McGee. Abby covered her mouth as she tried to regain composure, but she gave up when Tony and Ziva started laughing as well.

Tony gestured around the table. "Does that answer your question, Ducky?"

Ducky swirled his wine in his glass. "I would say so. Isn't it wonderful to be allowed such choice these days?"

"It is," Tony said, and then punched the still laughing McGee in the arm.

"Yes, well I dare say that legally binding oneself to another is no guarantee of longevity," Ducky said. "Did you know that about 40 per cent of marriages in the United States end in divorce? Yes, although the better educated the individuals, the longer the union lasts. And, of course, the older the betrothed, the better chance they stand. Statistically, Mr Palmer and the lovely Breena have a much better chance of making it that many other couples who will take the plunge this year."

Everyone took a moment to try to work out whether he was being kind or pessimistic.

"Is Breena really studying law?" McGee asked.

Ducky nodded. "Oh yes. She's very bright. It is her goal to work in the District Attorney's office, and I dare say she'll get there."

Tony picked up his wine. "A husband who's a medical examiner, and a wife who's a district attorney? Someone needs to make a TV show about that."

"So, you like her, Ducky?" Abby asked.

"Very much," Ducky said. "She is a good fit for our Jimmy. And they are very much in love."

Abby slid into a charmed smile. "It's inspiring, huh? All this love in the air."

Ducky smiled and put his hand over hers. "So oft have I invoked thee for my muse, and found such fair assistance in my verse."

Abby scrunched up her nose over a smile. "Smooth, Ducky. I'm diggin' it."

Ducky patted her hand. "A Shakespearean sonnet always does the trick," he said. "On all fair ladies, young and old."

"Did you get your Bill Shakespeare on when you were wooing Aunt Molly, Duck?" Tony asked.

Ducky held up an admonishing finger. "Young Anthony. A gentleman never tells."

"Or shares his play book," Tony guessed.

"Exactly." He lifted his glass. "A toast to family. The strongest tie that binds."

The others lifted their glasses.

"To family."

**

* * *

So, confession time. I only have one more chapter written, but four more after that planned. I've been staring at the disjointed pieces of chapter 15 for about a month now, and I can't get it together. So that's a problem. Also a problem? I'm heading overseas very soon for a quick trip (for a wedding, coincidentally). My point is that after the next chapter is posted, there's going to be a break. But with any luck I'll be inspired by the wedding I'm going to and I'll be able to knock the rest of this thing off before Easter. Your patience is appreciated. **


	14. Part 14: The Bachelor Party

**A/N: Warning for the squeamish: this chapter contains a whole lot of vomit.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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* * *

**

**Part 14: The Bachelor Party**

As far as bachelor parties went, it wasn't the worst Tony had been to. That honor went to Matt Bower, whose 1997 party in Chicago attempted to go ahead in the midst of one of the city's worst snowstorms in 40 years. They'd met at a buddy's house with plans to bar-hop around the city before retiring to strip club. By the time they were ready to start the night, the streets were buried under four feet of snow, and they couldn't go anywhere. That left 20 guys sitting in a one-bedroom apartment with no alcohol, no girls, and nothing to do after the power went out 30 minutes into the night.

Jimmy Palmer's crew had at least managed to make it outside. To be fair, they were now in their fourth bar of the evening—a cozy, sweaty place with an Irish flair—and most of the 15 guys crawling the streets of D.C. in celebration (make that mourning) of Jimmy's impending betrothal were having a ball. Tony was frankly surprised that a) Jimmy had 15 friends to round up, and b) at least 10 of them were carbon copies of the guys Tony hung out with in college. It didn't gel with the impression he had of the nerdy, socially awkward medical student Tony knew, but that didn't mean much of anything. People tended to tweak their personalities to fill whatever role was needed to round out a group. The guy Tony was with Josh and Celeste was slightly different to the guy he was around his colleagues, and was different again to the guy he was when he visited his family. There was nothing crooked about it. It was just human nature.

Tonight, Tony was filling the role of agony aunt again. Not for Jimmy or Abby, but for McGee. The probie had been throwing back brews like he was stocking up for the winter, and he had turned from chipper and chatty at bar number one, to hyper emotional and rambling at bar number four. From what Tony could gather, Abby had been so inspired by all the love in the air that she'd asked out a guy she met at the bowling alley. With six beers and a few shots under his belt, McGee was keen to tell Tony exactly how he felt about that.

"I mean, who the _hell_ just walks up to some person they've just met and asks them out?" McGee wanted to know.

Tony discreetly wiped a drop of McGee's spittle off his wrist, and answered his friend honestly. "A lot of people do. I don't know about the bowling alley scenario. I've never done that one. But generally, if you meet someone and you're interested, you ask them out."

McGee huffed and glared at his glass of beer. "But a _bowling alley?_"

"Abby likes bowling," Tony pointed out.

"_I_ like bowling," McGee argued.

Tony made a face. "Really? I don't get it."

McGee took a big gulp of beer, and Tony watched with dread as determination filled his eyes. "I've gotta do something about this."

Tony took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. "No, Tim. You don't," he said, trying to strike the balance between being firm and being a friend.

But McGee didn't want to hear it. "Everyone else is working it out!" he said, stabbing a finger into the table as if it would help him make his point. "Jimmy's getting married, you and Ziva are workin' it out, Gibbs is in the middle of his longest relationship since the nineties, and Ducky's getting it on with Aunt Molly. And now Abby's probably going to marry this guy…"

Tony allowed himself to roll his eyes at the drama. "Okay, so why don't _you_ date?"

McGee looked at him like he was stupid. "I want to date Abby."

Tony shook his head. He'd already had a conversation with Abby about how she felt about McGee, so he knew that she had moved on. But it wasn't his place to tell McGee that. He could only try to be the voice of sober reason. "I don't think that's a good idea."

McGee stared at him, and for a moment Tony thought the normally mild-mannered probie was going to lose his temper and start yelling. But then McGee slumped against the table and looked up at with a pitiful expression. "Did she tell you that?"

"No, I just—"

"You think I should give up," McGee guessed.

Tony took a moment to gather his thoughts (and retrieve a few things Ziva had said from his memory), and then trod as carefully as he could. "I think that a lot of time has passed, and that it might be good for you to think about moving on."

McGee wiped his mouth, and then displayed a lucidity that Tony wasn't expecting. "You didn't."

Tony blinked and frowned. "What?"

"You didn't move on," McGee said. "You were stuck on Ziva for ages, and even though you both dated you never really moved away from each other. Even when it looked like you'd never get there." He shook his head and hiccupped. "You didn't move on."

It had never occurred to Tony that anyone aside from him and Ziva were paying that much attention to them. Yeah, everyone had made fun of them at one point or another over the years, but no one had ever said anything that made him think that they knew there was actual love involved. Hell, even McGee's stupid book had been pasted together on the idea that they only had the hots for each other. To find out now that McGee was clear on the fact that Tony had been waiting for the right time with Ziva was kind of…unnerving. Especially since Tony had only worked that out himself a couple of months ago.

But all of that was beside the point. They were supposed to be talking about McGee, not Tony. "We're different," he said dismissively."

But McGee wouldn't drop it. "It's not."

"Is too."

"How?"

McGee seemed to be responsive to honestly tonight, so Tony continued down that path. "Because we were never together before now."

"So?"

Tony sighed. "So we were waiting for our first chance, not hoping for a second that would be _better_ than the first."

McGee stared at him, and for a second Tony thought he might be getting it. But then McGee shrugged. "You might still break up," he said. "If you break up, will you hope for a second chance?"

Tony's jaw tightened as he wondered why all the people who knew them best seemed to think it was so plausible that he and Ziva would break up. "Thanks for the vote of confidence," he muttered.

"No, I'm just sayin'," McGee said, waving his hand through the air like it was no big deal.

Tony went along with it only because McGee was so drunk, and arguing over it wouldn't get them anywhere but into a fistfight. "I don't know, McGee," he sighed. "If we break up, you and I will have this conversation again and I'll be the drunk one."

McGee went quiet, and fixed his eyes on the table in front of him. Tony let him sit there with his own drunk thoughts and looked around the room. Jimmy was at the bar with three of his groomsmen, two of whom were engaged in some kind of competitive shot-drinking game. Tony smirked to himself. Once upon a time, he'd been one of those guys. Not too long ago, he'd thought he _still_ wanted to be one of those guys. But these days? Not so much. He had better things to do with his Sunday mornings than vomit until he passed out on the bathroom floor.

"Cassie Martin asked me out."

McGee was still staring at the table, so he didn't catch Tony's small, triumphant smile. He couldn't believe Cass had taken his advice. He didn't actually think the two of them had much hope of lasting in the long run, but he was sure they'd enjoy a couple of fun months together if they gave each other a chance. And maybe a couple of months with Cass would help McGee move on from Abby.

"Yeah?" he said, trying to sound encouraging.

McGee glanced up at him and shrugged. "We're probably going out on Thursday."

"That's great, Tim."

McGee squinted at him. "You know her well?"

Tony shook his head. "Not really. But she was friends with Kate, so she's probably a pretty decent person."

McGee thought that over. "She's hot," he stated.

Tony chuckled. "Yeah, she is."

"Conventional hot," McGee elaborated, and narrowed his eyes with suspicion. "Conventional hot doesn't usually go for me."

Tony picked up his Coke and shrugged. "I wouldn't think too hard about it," he advised. "Just be happy with your good fortune."

McGee nodded—and nodded and nodded—as he considered Tony's advice. Then he threw back the rest of his drink and slammed his hands down on the table, hard enough to make his glass jump. "I need another drink. You need another drink? I'm gonna buy you a drink."

Tony shook his head as McGee got to his feet. "I'm good. And you might want to slow it down there, McLindsayLohan. It's barely midnight and I'm thinking of eighty-sixing you."

McGee braced his hands on the table and leaned into Tony's face. "You think I'm too drunk?" he challenged.

Tony almost got drunk off the fumes coming out of McGee's mouth. "You're getting there."

McGee waved his hand through the air dismissively and then wandered off towards the bar. It was clear that the probie wasn't close to calling it a night.

* * *

Two hours later, the group had made it to their fifth bar of the night. Tony had almost carried McGee to the filled-to-the-brim, almost-trendy establishment that he hoped would be their last stop of the evening. In return for the gesture, McGee had started getting uncomfortably argumentative with strangers in the bar, and was receiving back up for his behavior from one of Jimmy's groomsmen. Tony kept trying to calm both men down and keep the peace, but there was a prickling sensation at the back of his neck that told him it was only a matter of time until things got ugly. Although McGee was generally a pacifist, his new BFF Charlie was not. He carried a tension in his frame that Tony had seen a thousand times before, and he knew what it meant. He was fixing for a fight.

Tony kept one eye on McGee as he pulled out his cell phone and texted Ziva. He decided not to acknowledge the voice in his head that said he was just looking for reasons to talk to her. Just because it was the first night they hadn't spent together in about two weeks didn't mean he missed her. Nope, it didn't mean that at all. Tony was the master of his independence.

_McGee's getting ready to rumble. Might need a lift to the hospital soon._

As soon as he sent the message, Tony swore aloud at himself. It was after 0100. Ziva would probably be asleep, and the beeping of her cell phone would only make her snap awake at the possibility of a new case. He should have checked the time first.

But her response came back so quickly that he wondered if she'd already had her phone in her hand when it beeped. _What's going on? He okay?_

Tony glanced up at McGee. Right now he was talking to Jimmy and another guy, and Charlie was nowhere to be seen. _Extremely drunk and being difficult to love. Sorry if I woke you._

He jumped when McGee literally fell into the seat across from him, and caught his beer bottle before McGee's clumsy hands sent it spinning off the tabletop. "Whoa there, little buddy," he said. "Take it easy."

"I'm so easy," McGee slurred as Tony's cell rang.

Tony shook his head and answered without checking caller ID. "Hey."

"You've got to cut him off," Ziva said in his ear.

"Yeah, I tried that," he told her. "But there's no keeping an Irishman from his ale."

Whatever Ziva said in reply was lost to him when, out of nowhere, McGee lunged for the phone.

"Is that Abby?" he cried, and grabbed the phone out of the shocked Tony's hand.

"No, McGee," Tony started, and tried to grab the phone back, but McGee literally smacked his hand away and started pouring his heart out down the line.

"Abby, Abby!" he almost yelled. "I know you think we've missed our chance, but I just don't accept that. You're always saying that I have to follow my heart and trust my gut, and my gut's telling me that we're not over yet. We can't be. I'm not ready to concede defeat!"

Tony's mouth hung open as he watched on in complete horror. "Tim, it's Ziva," he tried to cut in, but McGee was totally in the zone now, and Tony could only drop his face into his hands in empathetic embarrassment.

"I _love you_, Abby," McGee told Ziva. "And I can't keep pretending that I don't hope that you'll realize how good we are together. All I want is—"

Tony looked up at the abrupt end to McGee's drunken soliloquy, and watched the color drain out of his face. Tony assumed that Ziva had been able to get a word in edge ways, and that McGee was now contemplating what the fastest way to kill himself would be.

"Oh, my God," McGee murmured. "I'm gonna throw up." He dropped the phone onto the table and lurched out of his seat before he started pushing his way through the dense crowd.

Tony grabbed his phone and went after him as he talked to Ziva. "I'm going to have to call you back," he told her, and then hung up.

His progress through the bar was slowed down by the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, but he managed to keep an eye on McGee until he staggered through the door to the bathrooms. Tony shoved his way past two guys who were yelling at each other in a not-so-pleasant way, and then pushed the bathroom door open. Two empty stalls, two guys lined up, and no McGee in sight. Tony cursed and looked around. Jesus, he really hoped McGee hadn't wandered into the ladies' room instead, although he supposed if he had, he would have heard screaming by now. Another possibility presented itself when Tony spied the back door down the end of the hall. _Lucky door number three_.

He knew he'd found his wayward friend as soon as he opened the door and heard the retching. McGee was bracing himself against the wall by the dumpster halfway down the alley. Amber-colored vomit poured out of his mouth and splashed onto his shoes, and Tony took a moment to control his gag reflex before moving down the alley towards him. He stopped six feet away. It was as close as he dared to get.

"Wow, Tim," he said, genuine awe in his voice. "That's the most impressive chuck I've seen for a long time."

McGee took a deep breath, and then sent a glare at Tony that should have flattened him. "Shut up," he muttered, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Tony scratched his temple. "You got any more left..." he started, but was interrupted when a second wave streamed out of McGee's mouth. Tony raised his eyebrows to himself and answered his own question. "Yep, looks like a whole lot."

As McGee worked on bringing up every piece of food and drink he'd consumed in the last week, Tony stuck his hands in his pockets and tried not to watch. He let his eyes drift skyward, as if that would give McGee the privacy he needed, and thought about the conversation he might soon have to have with Abby. _You're going to have to come clean with him, kiddo_.

A minute later the retching stopped, and Tony chanced a look at the stunning puddle at McGee's feet. There was a very large and twisted part of him that wanted to take photographic evidence, but his empathy won out. McGee was not going to need a physical reminder of this night.

"Okay. I'm done," McGee announced, and then stepped away from the puddle.

Tony gave him what he hoped was a vaguely sympathetic look as he approached. "I guess you're an emotional vomiter too, huh?" he said, thinking of his own turned stomach on the day of Ziva's INS interview.

But McGee wasn't in the mood for sympathy. With an expression as serious as Tony had ever seen, McGee stepped right up into Tony's space and pointed a finger in his face. "I'm warning you, DiNozzo. Don't you dare breathe a word of this to Abby."

Tony's nose crinkled at the acidic, fermented stench rolling off his friend. "Tim, I wouldn't do that to you."

"Promise," McGee demanded.

Tony pushed McGee's finger away and turned his head. "I will promise you anything so long as you get your vomit breath out of my face."

McGee ran his hands through his hair. "Ziva's gonna say something, isn't she?"

"To who? To Abby?" Tony shook his head. "No, I don't think she'll be keen to get involved in this."

McGee turned and pointed another finger. "I kept your secret!" he pointed out, arguing despite Tony's attempts to agree and placate. "I never told Ziva about all that wedding vows stuff you gave to Jimmy that was really about her, so you guys have to keep your mouths shut about this!"

Tony's heart beat momentarily spiked at the mention of the vows, and he felt a few seconds of panic over how he was going to deal with that at the wedding. He was leaning towards flat out denial at the moment. "Tim, don't worry about it," he said. "We've got your back."

For a moment, Tony was sure McGee was going to throw up again. But then he swallowed, wiped his mouth, and stomped off towards the door to the bar. "I need another drink."

Tony quickened his step to catch up. "No, I think what you need is a few glasses of water and a ride home."

McGee shook his head as he dug in his heels. "No, I'm fine."

Tony's eyes rolled heavenward. A drunk McGee was a stubborn, messy and emotional pain in the butt.

* * *

It was almost 0200 when Ziva's cell phone beeped again. She reached over to the coffee table for it without taking her eyes off the book in her hand, and finished the paragraph she was reading before checking Tony's text message.

You still awake?

She hit the call button instead of texting him back, and he answered on the second ring.

"What are you doing at this time of night?" he asked suspiciously.

Ziva could still hear music and talking in the background, but not as loud as before. She figured he was outside. "Cleaning my weapons chest," she lied. "So...wow."

Tony didn't need her to elaborate. "Uh, yeah," Tony chuckled. "He's experiencing some confessional regret right now, so keep that epic declaration of love on the down low."

"Of course," she said. "How is he now?"

She could hear the rueful smile in Tony's voice as he repeated her question. "How is he now? He's asleep. Passed out, actually. The two of us are just going to sit here until he's a little more sober and we can get a cab to pick us up."

"Do you want me to come get you?" she asked. Leaving the house at this time of night wasn't really what she wanted to do, but she was still awake and still dressed. And it would be a nice gesture, for Tony and McGee.

"Hmm, that depends," Tony replied. "Do you want vomit and blood in your car?"

Ziva's eyebrow went up with her level of interest. "Blood? Is he all right?"

"It's not his blood," Tony told her. "Him and one of Jimmy's groomsmen just picked a fight with some computer game developers." He paused the story to assure her, "I'm not making this up. The four of them came to soft, nerdy blows."

Ziva frowned. Tim McGee was not the type of guy to get involved in a bar fight. That sounded more like something that happened to her and Tony. In the middle of the day. "And he made them bleed?"

Tony cleared his throat. "Uh, not exactly," he said, sounding a bit sheepish. "The blood's mine. I tried to break it up, he thought I was someone else and he slugged me."

Ziva's mouth fell open. Tim McGee was getting really drunk, picking fights in bars and punching his friends?

"Ziva, you there?" Tony asked after a few too many beats of silence.

"I honestly do not know what to say," she told him. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah," he sighed. "I'll have a massive headache and probably an impressive bruise, but I've had much worse."

She knew he wasn't referring to the beat down he got in Philadelphia, but the comment still made her shiver and anger rise in her throat. She swallowed it down and got off the couch as the protective streak in her woke up and pushed her to act. "I will pick you up. Help you get him to bed."

"Not really the threesome I was after," Tony cracked.

Ziva smirked but otherwise ignored him. "I will see you soon."

* * *

When Ziva pulled up at the curb and looked at her partner and friend, she could barely believe her eyes. Sweet, placid Tim McGee was slumped against the park bench he shared with Tony, seemingly passed out. His shirt was rumpled and stained with blood, beer and what Ziva assumed was vomit. He looked pale and sweaty, and Ziva thought that if the back of the seat wasn't holding him up, he'd be lying on the ground. Tony, on the other hand, looked more or less as put together as always, aside from the red mark blossoming on the side of his jaw. As Ziva got out of the car, he appeared almost amused, and she wondered if he'd decided to have a drink or two after the fight to try to numb the ache in his face.

"Hi," he called out as she walked around the front of the car.

Ziva shook her head in wonder. "I wasn't sure I believed you."

Tony shrugged. "Ta-da!"

She stood in front of him and squinted at the mark on his chin. "Do you still have all your teeth?"

Tony's eyes went to the sky as he ran his tongue around his mouth. "Yep." He nodded at the car she'd just gotten out of. His Mustang, instead of her Mini. "You didn't hotwire that, did you, you little criminal?"

Ziva shook her head. "No, of course not," she said. "I just broke into your house and stole your spare keys."

Tony nodded at her joke, but his expression was pained. "You treated her right on the way over, right?" he said. "I mean, you slowed down for corners and didn't ride the clutch and drove in the correct gear, right? _Right?_"

"I drove like I always do," she shrugged. It was a lie—she'd actually taken care to drive his first love like a model citizen. But if he was going to make fun of her for her driving, then she would make fun of him right back.

Tony didn't seem to pick up on the lie, but he just closed his eyes, took a breath and nodded. "Where's Jason Bourne's ride of choice?"

"At your place," she said. "It doesn't have room for three."

"If he throws up on my upholstery—"

"Then he will have it detailed," Ziva cut in. "Have you had anything to drink?"

Tony winced. "Not much, but I'm probably over the limit." He caught her hand and looked up at her pleadingly. "Please drive like McGee's Miss Daisy."

She had a moment of pity, and stroked her free hand through his hair. "Trust me."

Tony twisted his lips, like he wasn't sure whether asking for a better assurance than that would be worth annoying her. In the end, he let it go and nodded. "Okay. Can you just help me get him upright and I'll drag him over to the car."

Ziva stuffed Tony's keys in her pocket and went to the other side of McGee as Tony took his arm and hooked it around his shoulders. Ziva grabbed him around his waist, and made a sound of disgust when her face almost came into contact with something vile-smelling on his shirt.

"How much did he drink?" she asked Tony as they wrestled McGee to his feet.

"Not enough to numb a broken heart," Tony replied.

Ziva raised an eyebrow at the vaguely poetic comment, but didn't get to comment before McGee lifted his head and burped in her face.

"Oh my God!" Ziva exclaimed, and covered her nose.

"Where we goin'?" McGee slurred, oblivious.

"Home," Tony told him. "Watch out you don't throw up on Ziva. Or my car. I'll probably be more annoyed about the car."

"Ziva?" McGee echoed. "Where she?"

"Under your left armpit," Tony said.

"Are you all right, McGee?' Ziva asked.

McGee swung his head around to look at her. "Have you been with us all night?"

"No."

"Where'd you come from?"

"Home," Ziva said, as she and Tony started dragging him across the street.

"Whose home?" McGee wanted to know.

Ziva didn't bother replying. She didn't have much patience for drunken blathering. She broke away from Tony and McGee when they got within two steps of the car and opened the rear door. Tony dragged McGee over and then started pushing him in.

"Sit down, McGee."

"On it," McGee replied, but then stood still as he stared at the back seat.

"You're not on it yet," Tony pointed out.

"I'm waiting for my butt to listen to my brain."

Tony sighed and looked to Ziva for help. Ziva shrugged, and then stood behind McGee and shoved. McGee fell onto the back seat with an _'oof!'_ and Ziva bent to wrestle his feet into the car. Once he was all tucked in, she slammed the door and looked at Tony with a self-satisfied smirk.

"He is not going to feel any pain right now," she explained. "I doubt he will even remember it."

Tony stared at her impassively. "Thank you."

She leant in and pecked his lips. "No problem. Get in."

* * *

McGee was slightly more cooperative when the time came to move from Tony's car to his apartment. Tony still held him up, but McGee's feet had heard the message from his brain to walk, so Tony didn't have to drag 170 pounds of drunk guy up six flights of stairs and down the hallway. Ziva had the apartment door open, the lights on and a path to the couch cleared by the time they made it to Tony's door.

"Okay, Timmy," Tony said, his voice straining as he helped McGee the last few feet to the couch. "Home, safe and sound for the night."

McGee dropped onto the couch like a sack of cement and his head bounced off the seat cushions. "This isn't my house."

"Good eye, McSherlockHolmes," Tony said, as he rotated his shoulder to try to work out a twinge. "You can't be left to your own devices in case you pull a Hendrix on us, and I am not spending the night in Nerdsville."

"Some people like Nerdsville," McGee murmured sleepily, before his eyes snapped open and he sat up. "Like Abby. Oh my God. Where's Ziva?"

Tony recognized the fresh panic in McGee's eyes, and felt dismay that the freak out portion of McGee's evening was still not over. He sat on the coffee table in front of him with a sigh. "McGee, Ziva's not going to—"

"Ziva!" McGee yelled as Ziva reappeared, carrying a plastic bucket from Tony's bathroom.

Ziva frowned at him as she put the bucket in front of the couch. "What?"

"I spoke to you on the phone tonight," McGee said, as if she might have forgotten.

Ziva's eyes flicked to Tony to share a brief, knowing look before returning to McGee. "Yes. I remember that."

"Please don't tell Abby," McGee begged. "_Please_. If you're any friend at all, you'll put it in your vault."

"Vault means—" Tony started, but Ziva cut him off.

"I know what it means. McGee, of course I will not say anything to her," she said. "But _you_ should."

Tony's gaze snapped up to her, and he gave her a fierce frown. He mouthed a curt 'no' to her as he shook his head, and Ziva cocked her head to the side while she tried to work out why he was objecting.

"Of course, I don't mean that you should spill your heart to her," Ziva went on, heading in the direction she thought Tony was pointing her to. "I just mean that things need to be put to bed." She raised a questioning eyebrow at her partner, and his expression softened when he nodded.

"I think what Ziva's getting at," Tony took over, "is that you'll feel better when there's closure."

McGee's face slid into something south of glum. "Closure," he repeated.

Tony clapped him on the shoulder. "Closure is healthy."

As McGee considered that, Ziva gestured towards the kitchen. "I will get you some water," she said, but before she could step away, McGee reached out and grabbed her wrist. Ziva stumbled a step with the unexpected strength of the touch, and she braced her other hand on Tony's shoulder to stop herself from falling into McGee's lap. "Whoa!"

Tony steadied her, and with thoughts of how suddenly violent McGee had been in the bar filling his head, he put a firm hand over McGee's wrist. "Hey. Tim, let go," he warned.

McGee didn't hear the tone in his voice, and kept holding on to Ziva in what he thought was a friendly touch. "No, hey. Look, I jus' wanna say to you guys that you're so annoying," he slurred. "But I think that Tony was right not to give up. Cuz, like, you really love each other, an' you deserve each other." He paused and frowned in offence at his own words. "That sounds mean. I don't mean it like...Actually, I _do _mean it like that." He looked between them. "You both _totally_ deserve each other. But I mean it nice, too. And I think..." He paused and seemed to be looking for more words of blessing and encouragement, until he let go of Ziva, pitched forward and took a deep breath. "I'm gonna be sick."

Tony grabbed the bucket Ziva had brought over and held it under McGee's mouth two seconds before McGee once again opened the gates to his stomach and purged.

"Oh my God!" Ziva cried, and dashed out of the room.

Tony couldn't wait to follow her. "Man alive," he muttered with wonder, and then shoved the bucket into McGee's hands. "Hold on to that, okay? Because if you soil anything in here with your bodily fluids I'm going to make you scrub it out with a toothbrush."

"Okay," McGee said weakly, and hung his head over the bucket as his stomach tried to bring up even more.

Tony stood up and backed away. "I'll get you some water," he said, and then left the remorseful drinker to his own devices.

He found Ziva in the kitchen, one hand over her mouth and the other resting over her stomach. He found himself chuckling at the situation instead of venting his annoyance. "Good thing we've got tomorrow off, huh?"

Ziva dropped the hand from her mouth. "I hate vomit."

"I know," he said, and crossed to the freezer to grab an ice pack for his chin. He sat at the kitchen island, and Ziva leaned against his side.

"Is it sore?" she asked, gesturing it his face.

Tony's eyebrows quickly rose and fell again. "He's got a pretty good left hook."

Ziva slid her hand into his hair and kissed his head. "Why did he get so upset tonight?"

Tony pressed the ice pack against his jaw. "Abby had a date tonight," he told her, lowering his voice even though the likelihood of McGee overhearing the conversation was non-existent.

"Do you think he is really heartbroken?" Ziva asked. "Or just drunk and emotional?"

"Both," Tony replied, not even having to think about it. He looked up at her. "Aren't you two BFFs? You should know this."

Ziva shrugged. "He left me with the impression that he had mostly moved on." She poked his arm gently. "Why don't you want him to talk to her?"

"Because she's just going to shoot him down," Tony said. "It's better if _she_ talks to _him_, so that he knows from the beginning that there's not a chance of them getting back together. It'll stop him from pouring his heart out like he did to _you_ tonight, and humiliating himself."

Ziva's frown turned into an expression of understanding. "Oh. Yes, that makes sense." She eyed him with suspicion to hide her fondness for him. "You are behaving like a very good friend, Tony."

"I get mushy when I drink," he threw back with a smile.

Ziva winked at him. "Was it a good party before the vomiting and the fighting?"

"It was weird," he said, but couldn't find the energy to explain how he'd seen his younger self in Jimmy's friends.

"It was nice of you both to go." Tony nodded, and then winced as the throbbing in his jaw flared up. "Are you going to be okay with McGee?"

"As long as he doesn't try to climb into bed with me, or hit me, or throw up on me."

Her hand went to his hair again. "Resist the urge to hit him back if he does."

"Are you going?"

Ziva nodded. "I would stay, but...I don't want to," she finished honestly. "Not with McGee here."

He chuckled because he couldn't blame her, and then put his arm around her waist to pull her closer. Ziva leaned down to kiss him, but she jumped back with a cry a moment later and grabbed the ice pack out of his hand.

"Keep this off my butt for a minute," she instructed, and dropped it on the table before leaning down to kiss him again. They indulged in each other for a minute or two, no longer feeling the need to rush and soak in as much of each other as they could as they had just weeks ago. They had time now. They could relax.

Ziva pulled back first and stroked his non-throbbing cheekbone with her thumb. "Try to sleep well," she told him.

Tony nodded. "Thanks for picking us up. And for not driving like you usually do."

"You're welcome," she said, and gave him another quick kiss before stepping away.

Tony got up to follow her to the door. "I'll call you tomorrow," he promised. Ziva nodded, and they shared another quick kiss before she left.

Tony went back to the kitchen to fill a glass with water and then took it back to the living room. McGee was lying on the couch now, snoring with the abandon that only the drunk possessed, and so Tony left the glass on the coffee table and went over to the window. He watched Ziva walk down the sidewalk to where she'd left her Mini, and his thoughts turned again to those guys tonight who had reminded him so much of the guys he hung around in college. Those guys, so full of confidence, arrogance, brashness and pride, were a pretty good double for how he and Josh had been. And by God, they lived three lifetimes in those seven or eight years during and after college. Looking back, Tony wouldn't give them up for anything, but these days he was happy to be the calmer, more stable, slightly wiser guy who got to be with the woman he was pretty sure loved him.

God help him, Tony DiNozzo had finally grown up.

**

* * *

Not exactly a Tiva chapter to soothe the unsettled masses. It was really a chapter about vomit. But I'm not real good at writing entire stories in a day. Sorry.  
That's my last chapter for a few weeks-yay for holidays!-but the storey's not over. Promise. I think we've got about four chapters to go.**


	15. Part 15: The Wedding

**A/N: Oh Lord, this chapter was a long time coming, huh? Sorry about that. Welcome to the wedding. There are plenty of seats down the front. Don't be shy.**

**Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

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* * *

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**Part 15: The Wedding**

Tony's previous experiences with weddings had been pretty hit and miss. He'd been to just enough in the past to know that they usually fell into one of four categories.

The good: His cousin Linda's traditional wedding in '99 where everything went as planned, all the guests were nice to each other, and the crème brûlée had been to die for.

The bad: His friend Matt Bower's wedding in '97 that ended with the bride and groom screaming at each other on the dance floor before leaving separately, and everyone had been kicked out before they were properly drunk.

The ugly: His dad's 1984 wedding to stepmother number one, where 13-year-old Tony got drunk for the first time and cried and puked until his nonna took him home.

The awesome: Josh and Celeste's '01 wedding weekend in Cabo that included jet-skiing, surfing and the best party he'd ever been to on board a luxury yacht.

Tony thought it was hard to predict whether a wedding was going to be a train wreck or something epic. Certainly his dad's was always going to be tough, but Matt's had sounded great on paper, and Josh and Celeste had been so disorganized that Tony had been surprised when they actually got to say 'I do'.

With that in mind, Tony really couldn't pick how Jimmy's was going to turn out. Although Jimmy was kind of weird, Breena was pretty normal, and so he couldn't say for sure that it was going to be nerdy and strange. And while Breena's family seemed to be loaded, they didn't seem to be the sort of stuck up, polished-to-perfection people Tony had grown up in the company of who would demand perfection from the day. The smart money would be on a wedding that was in the realm of good, but forgettable. But Tony knew that Jimmy could be impulsive and surprising, and Breena seemed to be the kind of girl who would be happy to go along for the ride. Whatever happened, Tony just hoped it would be entertaining.

At the very least, he was happy with the location. It was a perfect summer's day, and if Tony had to choose to be anywhere, sitting on the beach with a half-naked Ziva would be close to the top of his list. Okay, so she wasn't actually half-naked, and they weren't sitting on the beach in a _soaking up the sun before a swim_ kind of way. But his partner was bare-shouldered, beautiful and smelled like coconuts, and there was definitely sand under his feet and an ocean in his field of vision. It was good enough.

He, Ziva and Abby had driven down to Norfolk that morning and dumped their stuff at a hotel before prettying themselves up and heading over to Breena's grandparents' house. Abby had used her sternest voice to convince Gibbs to come to the wedding (though there was still no word on whether he would bring Lola with him), and Ducky was hitching a ride with him. That left McGee to drive down with Cassie Martin, whom he'd been dating for three weeks.

There ceremony wasn't due to begin for another half hour, but plenty of people had arrived early to enjoy the weather. About 75 guests were standing and sitting around the small area of private beach where chairs and a wooden archway adorned with flowers had been set up. It was the same odd mix of people that had been at the engagement party, including Shelly and Frank. Shelly had noticed them as they'd claimed three seats in an empty row on Jimmy's side of the sandy aisle and sent them an enthusiastic wave. Fearing being dragged into another conversation about the design of chairs for the purpose of functional art, Tony had just nodded politely and then avoided eye contact.

Standing by the altar on Jimmy's side were two guys Tony recognized from the bachelor party; Jimmy's best man and the guy who'd tag-teamed with McGee during the nerd fight. Plenty of family members and friends filled the seats in front of Tony's row, including Jimmy's Aunt Molly. The object of Ducky's affection was sitting beneath a large blue hat with feathers that fluttered in the breeze, laughing with abandon at the sight of one of Jimmy's nephews shoving fistfuls of sand down his pants. There were a few medical school-looking people scattered about (well, one woman was in a dress the shade of green surgical scrubs, and another guy was wearing glasses) and a bored-looking young woman sitting beside a much older guy who reeked of old money.

Lots of pretty 20-something girls with artificially curled hair and caked-on make up sat on Breena's side of the aisle. They were exactly the kind of girls he would have hit on at a wedding even five years ago, and Tony predicted that the frat boy types from Jimmy's bachelor party had probably already zoned in on them and had worked out who was going to hit on who. For the second time in as many weeks, Tony found himself thanking God that he didn't have to deal with any of that crap anymore. He was too old and tired to play the game, and he thought it was lucky that he and Ziva had worked it out when they had. If they hadn't, he would have bet that his future would have looked a lot like the old guy with the young, bored-looking woman on his arm.

The thought was terrifying enough to make him drop his surveillance of the crowd and turn his attention to Ziva sitting beside him. As he reassured himself that yes, she was there and no, he was not destined to be a sad old lonely man, Ziva looked up at him and raised her eyebrows as if she expected him to make a comment. He shot her a charming smile just for the hell of it.

"Hi."

"Hello," she returned.

"So, do you come here often?"

Ziva's expression softened into what Tony liked to think of as fond amusement. "First time."

Tony feigned surprise. "Wow, mine too. Must be fate, huh?"

"Oh, Lord," Ziva muttered as she looked away, but the smile that tugged at the corner of her mouth assured him that she was amused, not annoyed.

Tony slowly leaned towards her, watching her smile grow in profile as she sensed him coming nearer. Just as he was about to press a kiss to her cheek, Ziva turned her head again and kissed him first. She gave him a wink as she pulled away, and Tony smiled. Ziva wasn't always in the mood to play with him, but he got a kick out of it when she was and Ziva knew it.

Tony raised his eyes to find Abby looking at him with an expression somewhere in between amusement, affection and perplexity. Her smile grew when she met his gaze.

"You guys," she started, but then shook her head when she seemed at a loss to explain what she was thinking. "I don't even know."

Ziva looked up at him, eyebrows raised in question, and he shrugged back at her. He was fairly confident that whatever Abby was thinking was in the realm of complimentary, and so he didn't bother asking for an explanation.

Ziva pushed her hair back over her shoulder, unwittingly exposing a mile of bare, delicious skin to Tony's appreciative gaze. "So, should we bet on whether Gibbs will bring Lola?" she asked.

Abby made a face. "I don't know why he has to bring her everywhere."

Ziva barely turned her head towards Tony at the harsh statement, and he read her mind. They'd discussed Abby's problem with Lola in the hospital while they'd been waiting for news on McGee, and Tony had suggested that Ziva have a 'girl talk' with Abby about it. The expletive Ziva had muttered in response to that suggestion had been quite _un_girly, and she'd suggested right back that Abby only listened to a voice of reason if it came out of his or Gibbs' mouth. He knew that Ziva was now putting this conversation entirely in his hands.

He rested his elbow on the back of Ziva's chair and gently tugged her hair before he took the 'girl talk' reigns. "Abby, he hasn't brought her anywhere before," he said gently. "None of us have ever met her."

Abby crossed her arm over her chest and pouted. "Feels like she's been around forever."

Tony frowned. He couldn't work out what was going on with her. "Why don't you like her?"

Abby shifted in her seat, and the investigator in him deduced that she knew her reasoning wasn't solid. "Gibbs has been different ever since she came along."

"Different how?"

"He's been all sneaky!" Abby exclaimed. "And then if you tell him he's being sneaky, he gets cranky."

"I hadn't noticed any sneakiness," Tony said, and glanced at Ziva to make sure she was nodding and siding with him.

Abby rolled her eyes like a 12-year-old. "That's because you're a boy, and you don't pick up on these things. Trust me. He's being sneaky."

"But I don't understand why he'd be sneaky," Tony argued gently. "We all know about her. He's not keeping her a secret."

Abby sighed and looked away. "You don't understand."

Nope, he definitely didn't. And he didn't have a clue what to say now. He gave Ziva's curls another gentle tug, handballing the conversation to her.

"I think perhaps he is just trying to be low-key," Ziva said, picking up where he'd left off flawlessly. "Which is very Gibbs of him. He never discusses his personal life with us. But—"

"But he does!" Abby cut in, turning almost sideways in her seat and leaning forward as she got worked up. "Normally if I ask, he'll give me something. _Anything_. I mean, it's not like he goes into detail, but he always gives me a crumb, a morsel, a taste! But with Lola? Not even a _crumb_ of a crumb."

Tony decided it would be dangerous for him _and_ Ziva if he mentioned that Gibbs had shared more than a crumb about Lola with Ziva. Fortunately, he was starting to get a picture of what was going on so he could focus on that.

"Oh, well as a _boy_, I understand that," he said, chastising her just a bit. "What's going on is that he really, really likes her, and he's nervous about what you'll think of that. So he's choosing to ignore it until it either goes away or he's sure there won't be a problem."

Ziva looked at him curiously as Abby flat-out frowned. "That makes no sense," she declared.

"Yes, it does," Tony insisted. "If he doesn't tell you anything about her, you can't dislike her. That makes his life easier. Because if you dislike her, then he knows he's going to have a problem." Tony shook his head. "He doesn't want a problem."

Neither woman seemed to be catching on.

"That still doesn't make any sense," Abby said, shaking her head.

Tony sighed and looked away just like Abby had a moment ago. "You're a _girl_. You wouldn't understand," he teased. A moment later, he felt a pain in his earlobe where Abby had flicked him. "Ow!"

"Why wouldn't I like her?" Abby wanted to know. "I like people! I liked Hollis. I liked Jenny."

"You didn't like Veronica," Tony pointed out, referring to an impossibly annoying woman Gibbs had dated for a month soon after Tony joined the agency.

Abby made a face. "_You_ didn't like Veronica either."

"Veronica was crazy."

"Well, if Lola isn't crazy, then I'll probably like her," Abby said. "Why would he think I wouldn't?"

"He doesn't think you won't," Tony tried to explain. "But he's _worried_ that you won't. That's the issue."

"But why wouldn't I?" Abby pressed.

Ziva held her hands up between them to stall the argument. "You are going in circles," she pointed out.

Tony rubbed his face and tried a different approach. "Okay. Abs, if you didn't already know Ziva, I wouldn't have told you about her for ages."

"But I love Ziva!" Abby said, before smiling at the woman in question and giving her a one-armed hug.

"Yeah, but if you didn't know her, I wouldn't have known that," Tony tried to explain. "And if I was getting serious about someone, I might not tell you that because I'd be thinking about what would happen when you met her. If you didn't like her, it'd put me in a position where I'd always have to be the referee between my friend who I love, and my…" He stopped and frowned as Ziva turned to look at him with an eyebrow raised. "What are you? Girlfriend? I don't really think that fits."

Ziva shrugged, blessedly not offended by the stumble or the question. "_Partner_ has been working fine for the last six years."

Tony considered that. "Yeah, but that was in a different context," he began to muse, but then shook his head and got back on track. "Conversation for another time." He looked back at Abby. "I'd have to be a referee between you and her, and I don't want to deal with that. And I don't want to deal with conversations from both of you about what I see in the other one. So I would've kept Ziva on the down low until I'd decided that our relationship was worth potentially being your referee for the next 40 years. I reckon that's what Gibbs is doing."

Abby and Ziva stared at him as they both tried to follow his train of thought. Tony thought that Ziva looked like she was getting it, but after a full ten seconds of silence, Abby shook her head.

"That's dumb," she declared.

Tony's shoulders sagged in defeat. He didn't know how else to explain it.

"You introduced me to Celeste," Ziva said to him. "Months before we even started…"

"Yeah," he said with a smile and a shrug.

"Were you worried that we wouldn't get along?"

Tony had to laugh. "Neither of you plays well with other women," he started. "You're Little Miss Punch First, Ask Questions Later, and she's Little Miss Razor Tongue. So yeah, we were concerned that it wouldn't go completely smoothly."

"We?" Ziva questioned.

Tony gave her a half smile as he considered how much to tell her. In the end, he decided he might as well be honest. "Me and Josh. We purposely had you guys meet when you were dropping me at their place so that if things got unpredictable I could get you back in the car pretty quickly, Josh could get Celeste into the house, and we could all avoid an…incident," he finished diplomatically.

Ziva stared at him, and he couldn't tell whether she was amused or annoyed. Abby's snorts suggested that she, at least, was amused.

"You planned our escape?" Ziva asked.

"We thought it would be good to be prepared."

Ziva stared a little longer, and then broke into a self-aware smirk and shook her head. "But I like Celeste."

"I know," Tony said. "And that's good news for me."

"Why did you introduce us if you thought we wouldn't get along?"

Tony held back his sigh. Why wasn't she getting it? "Because you're worth the pain of having to be a referee for the next 40 years," he explained patiently.

Ziva's eyes softened at the admission, but it was Abby who commented.

"Aww!"

Tony shrugged like it was no big deal. "Yeah, I know. I'm a romantic," he said, injecting just enough humor into his tone to pass the comment off as a joke.

Ziva breathed out a soft laugh and seemed to smirk at him trying to act like he wasn't the romantic type. The fact was that he _did_ get into all of that mushy love stuff, and he hadn't worked out yet why she tolerated it. He suspected it was because deep down, under the tough, anti-girly surface, Ziva didn't mind it so much. Not that he'd ever make her admit it.

He gave her a quick wink and then looked up when movement behind them caught his eye. Ducky was ambling towards them, leading Gibbs and a woman Tony assumed was Lola. Tony had been expecting the boss' girlfriend to be another redhead. Perhaps a Jenny Shepard type. But Lola was tiny—probably only about 5'1 or 5'2—with a sleek dark bob framing Asian features. A bright blue dress hung on her slight frame, setting off bright red lipstick stretched over a huge, friendly smile.

"Oh my God," he murmured to Ziva. He nudged her knee with his as his excitement skyrocketed.

Ziva followed his gaze as the others made their way down their row of chairs. He couldn't see her reaction, but he heard her hiss Abby's name just before the others entered earshot. Abby looked up at them as well, and all three watched eagerly as Gibbs sent them a look that just dared them to play up. Tony gave him a megawatt smile in return.

"Hey, boss! Hey, Ducky!"

Gibbs nodded and Ducky took a seat beside Abby and accepted her sweet kiss with a smile. He nudged Lola past him so that she was between him and Ducky, and then gestured somewhat dismissively at the others.

"This is them," Gibbs said to Lola with a wave of his hand. "Abby, Ziva and Tony." He gestured at his companion. "This is Lola."

Tony stood up and reached past the others to shake Lola's hand. "Nice to meet you," he said, giving her his most charming smile and reveling in how uncomfortable Gibbs looked in the moment. "Really. We've been looking forward to it."

Lola's smile was almost as big as Tony's. "Oh, so have I," she said with a touch of a Southern drawl. "Jethro talks about you all the time."

"Aw," Tony started, but Ziva cut him off before he could have too much fun.

"We're so glad you came," she said, holding out her hand.

Lola shook it and then sat down before pointing between Tony and Ziva. "So, you're the two who are bad with following rules?"

Tony pushed out a laugh at her deliberate joke and put his arm around Ziva's shoulders, pulling her back into his chest. "Oh, _Jethro's_ a funny guy, isn't he, honey?"

Gibbs smirked as the first grenade from his team hit its target. Instead of following Tony's hit with one of her own, Ziva decided to be a grown up.

"Calm down, Tony," she said discreetly.

Abby gave Lola a small wave. "Hi. I'm Abby."

Lola gave her a wide, kind smile. "Oh, I can't wait to talk to you," she said. "Jethro said you're a Plastic Death fan."

Abby's smile grew slightly more genuine. "Yeah, I love them. Are you familiar with them?"

Lola nodded. "Yeah, I always stock their stuff in my store. There aren't many places around D.C. that do, but I don't know why. Their music is so pure."

Abby twisted in her seat. "Wait, what store?" she asked, becoming more animated with every second that passed.

"I own a music store," Lola told her. "It's in Adams Morgan. Ruby Blue."

Abby's spine became as straight as an arrow as she sat right up and held her hands up. "Oh, my God! You own Ruby Blue? That's, like, the _best _music store between Washington and New York!"

Lola let out a warm, easy laugh. "Well, thank you. That means a lot."

As Abby continued warming to Lola, Ziva turned to look up at Tony. "Oh, she's good," she said softly.

Tony gave her a smile of agreement. "I reckon Gibbs has been keeping that one in his back pocket." He nodded with admiration. "He _is_ sneaky."

"He will not need to be a referee."

He smirked briefly at her reference to his dating master class. "Doesn't look like it."

She looked up at him curiously. "Does Celeste like me?"

"What?"

Ziva tucked her hair behind her ear, which Tony recognized as one of her few nervous ticks. "Well, I assume it is just as important to you that Celeste likes me as it is that I like her. You have been friends for a long time, so her opinion must matter to you."

Tony shrugged. It was a non-issue. "Yeah, she likes you. Josh likes you. You're likeable." Ziva snorted and gave him a _'You've got to be kidding'_ look. Tony trod carefully. "What? You are. From a distance. After a couple of drinks."

Although completely unoffended by his (honest) words, Ziva turned her body further towards him. "_You_ did not like me when you met me," she pointed out, her expression daring him to argue.

He dared. "Of course I did."

Ziva gave him a pointed look. "On my first case you made me crawl through a dumpster. A _full _dumpster_. _Looking for evidence you knew would not be there."

He smiled as he remembered the incident. "Yeah, but…that wasn't because I didn't like you. That was because I enjoy watching hot woman crawl around in garbage." It was the most obvious lie he'd told in a long time, but luckily Ziva didn't seem particularly upset. Clearly, whatever negative feelings he'd held for her when she first joined the team had been superseded by the most positive feelings he'd ever had for anyone.

"It's okay," she told him. "I didn't like you back then either."

Tony snorted with disbelief. "Oh, you did too," he said dismissively.

Before she could shatter his ego by pointing out all the ways he was wrong about that, Jimmy appeared at the end of the row beside Tony. He beamed down at the line of his co-workers in typical Jimmy fashion. Tony noticed the tremors that ran through the ME's assistant's hands, but he was pretty sure they were caused by excitement, not nerves. The guy had clearly been looking forward to this day since the moment Breena accepted his proposal.

"Hey guys!" Jimmy practically sang. "I'm so glad you're all here. Isn't this great?"

Tony couldn't help smiling at the guy's genuine elation, but it was Ducky who spoke up.

"Indeed, Mr. Palmer!" he enthused. "And what a spectacular day for such a happy occasion. Tell me, how are you holding up?"

Jimmy's smile grew even bigger, and Tony bet himself that one of Palmer's party tricks as a kid would have been to shove his entire fist into his mouth. "I'm doing great, doctor. I can't wait to see her walk down the aisle. I can't wait to say _'I do'_." He paused as he looked towards the archway that would serve as their altar, and his smile warmed. "This is just the best day of my life."

Tony couldn't help raising his eyebrows in surprise. "Wow. You're not even a little bit nervous?"

Jimmy looked down at him like he couldn't understand where Tony was coming from. "Why would I be nervous?" he asked genuinely.

Tony stared back at him. He could think of at least six reasons to be nervous about marriage, and that was just off the top of his head. If he actually devoted time to considering the question, he felt sure he'd be able to come up with at least a dozen more. But he was hardly going to tell Jimmy that on his wedding day.

"I don't know," he ended up lying with a shrug. "I guess there's no good reason."

"I'm so excited for you, Jimmy," Abby leaned over to say. "And you look totally cute."

Jimmy looked down at his white shirt and grey tie and suit pants. His feet were bare on the sand like everyone else's. He smoothed his hands down his shirt as he pulled himself up to full height, puffed out his chest and grinned at them. "Yeah. I feel pretty good."

"Very handsome," Ziva purred.

Jimmy shot her a smile that seemed extremely confident for him, and Tony began to think that marriage looked _really_ good on the guy. "Thank you, Ziva," Jimmy said before his eyes flicked down their row. "Hey, is that Agent Gibbs' girlfriend?"

"L-O-L-A Lola," Tony confirmed.

Jimmy smiled whimsically. "It's so nice that everyone's settling down, isn't it?" He looked at Abby. "Hey, that reminds me. There's this guy I want you to meet. He's Breena's cousin, and he just moved to D.C. from Louisiana."

Abby smiled politely, but it was clear that she wasn't sold. "Oh, that's sweet but—"

"Yeah, he's in computer forensics, and when he found out that I work at NCIS he asked me if I knew you," Jimmy went on. "Apparently you're some kind of rock star in his field of work."

Abby's smile grew more genuine, and she sat up straighter. "Oh. I don't know about a rock star, but it's nice that he—"

Jimmy stopped paying attention when Breena's mother appeared beside him and put a hand on his arm. "Sweetheart, your bride is ready."

Jimmy's face lit up. "Okay! Let's get this show on the road." He looked down at his colleagues as he started walking backwards down the aisle. "Talk to you guys later, okay? Have a great time."

"Good luck!" Abby called after him, and then turned to Tony and Ziva. "Who was that confident, dapper young man?"

"I don't know, but there is a certain charm about him," Ziva replied.

"I always thought marriage was _bad_ for your mojo," Tony started, but he closed his mouth again at Abby's scowl and Ziva's bemused eye roll.

McGee arrived hand-in-hand with Cassie Martin just seconds before the ceremony began. After sliding into the two empty seats beside Gibbs, McGee had just enough time to send the others a smile and a wave in greeting. Tony sent him a completely fake look of disappointment, and McGee nodded and rolled his eyes, suggesting that there was a story behind his tardiness. His eyes flicked to Lola before returning to Tony with a popped eyebrow that the senior agent read loud and clear: _That's Lola?_ Tony cocked his head and raised an eyebrow in response, McGee's eyebrows rose and quickly fell in comment, and then the guitar player down by the altar started strumming the song that would bring Breena down the aisle.

As flower girls started crossing the sand, the congregation got to their feet and turned to watch the procession. Dozens of cell phones and cameras appeared out of thin air to capture the three girls' moves as though they were Hollywood's latest It Girls, but if the kids were put off by the attention they didn't show it. On the contrary, they all seemed to be feeding off it and playing up for the crowd.

Tony felt a sharp poke in his arm, and looked back to see Abby waving a camera at him.

"Get some shots!" she whispered.

Tony gave her a look that told her there was no way was he going to get involved in wedding photography. Abby pouted and gave him puppy eyes in response, and Tony reached around Ziva to take Abby's wrist and pull her towards him. Abby squeezed past Ziva and Tony to stand at the head of the row, and then happily started snapping of shots of the trio of cuteness wandering down the aisle wearing pretty grey dresses and huge grins.

The lead girl, a confident little thing probably no older than five, tossed petals from a basket around with abandon and kicked up sand as she zigzagged between each side of the aisle. As the congregation laughed at her gusto, Tony got an uncomfortably warm yearning-type feeling in his chest at the sight of her long dark curls. He found himself reaching for Ziva's hand before he really understood why, before freezing in panic when he finally realized what was going on.

Jesus, had he just had a Procreation Moment?

Panic rushed through him, and he thought about dropping Ziva's hand to make the feeling go away. But he decided that would be more likely to alert her to the fact that something was going on. In the end he left his fingers threaded with hers as though they did the handholding thing all the time (they totally didn't) while he attempted to keep his eyes off the girl and on the crowd around them. Except that he couldn't. His eyes followed the little girl as she threw a handful of petals right at them, and he felt the corners of his mouth pull up when she looked up at him and grinned like she was having the time of her life. Then she and the other girls passed them by, and Tony felt his panic start to fade.

Abby looked over her shoulder at him with a smile. "Oh my God! How cute were they?"

Tony smiled but otherwise played it cool. "Pretty cute," he allowed.

"Did the really little one look like she was purposely aiming for people with those petals?" Ziva whispered from behind him. "She was throwing them really hard."

Given his previous thoughts, Tony had to chuckle. "I think she was just enjoying herself," he whispered back to his military-trained partner. "There was no nefarious intent."

"She had a good arm," Ziva said approvingly, and Tony could only roll his eyes to himself.

When Breena appeared at the top of the aisle in above-the-knee wedding white, a gasp went up from the crowd. Tony took in the sight of the beautiful blonde in the gorgeous dress and found himself smiling. But while she held everyone else's attention as she started her barefooted stroll down the aisle, Tony turned his head to look at Jimmy.

The kid wasn't just smiling, but glowing. He was completely entranced as he watched his bride walk towards him, and Tony thought that World War III could have broken out six feet behind him and Jimmy wouldn't have noticed. It was written all over his face that this was the best moment of his life, and Tony wondered if that was how he looked at Ziva just a few weeks ago when her citizenship came through and he knew for sure that they'd have a life together.

When it was time for them all to sit down again, he kept hold of Ziva's hand. It felt strange but also somehow fitting, and if Ziva had an issue with the out-of-character public affection she didn't let on. He chanced a look down their row, and then had to stifle a laugh. McGee was holding Cassie's hand. Gibbs was holding Lola's hand. Abby was holding Ducky's hand. Yep, they were just one big group of tough, grizzled, emotionally distant law enforcement professionals.

* * *

The order of wedding proceedings was fuzzy in Ziva's head, and not just because she was used to Jewish ceremonies. She'd never been the type of girl to future-plan her own wedding, and nor had any of her female friends. She didn't recall going to any weddings with her family as a child aside from her cousin's wedding when she was 13, and that seemed so long ago that Ziva almost felt like it had taken place in another life. Of course she'd seen weddings in movies, but dramatized versions of the blessed event tended to steer away from the less interesting formalities of the ceremonies in favor of the smashing of glasses or, in American movies, the vows.

She had a vague idea of what to expect. Readings from family and friends, the celebrant urging the congregation to "speak now or forever hold your peace". (Breena's over-the-top death glare at their friends and family at that gave Ziva the impression that despite high-maintenance appearances, the woman was actually quite casual and quick to make fun of herself.) She assumed that there would be the exchange of rings and a kiss at some point. And she knew that vows would be exchanged—vows that her partner had supposedly had a hand in—but she didn't know when.

She couldn't deny that she was interested in hearing what Jimmy came out with, but she was more looking forward to trying to guess what advice Tony might have given him. Because not so far under the surface, her frat boy, career cop, womanizing partner was actually a big, fat sappy romantic. He was good at hiding the fact, and he'd managed to fool her for longer than she was prepared to admit. But his eyes gave him away. The way he'd looked at her across the bullpen for six years gave him away. The smile on his face when he'd watched Jimmy beam at Breena walking down the aisle gave him away. Despite his own disastrous experiences looking for it in the past, Anthony DiNozzo was a champion for love.

Ziva squeezed his hand briefly as she thought about that. It was something she admired about him. They'd both been burned by love—both romantic and familial—in the past. But while Ziva had more or less closed the door on finding it again until Tony and Gibbs tag-teamed on bashing the door down, Tony had kept seeking it. He'd kept putting himself out there because although he needed to be loved, he was also someone who needed to love in return. He was brave enough (or perhaps stupid enough) to keep getting up and fighting after he'd been knocked out time and time again. He was determined to keep going until he found exactly what he was looking for.

For reasons Ziva was sure she would never fully understand, Tony seemed to have decided that she was what he was looking for. Part of her was dying to ask him why, but the smarter part of her that was more focused on emotional self-preservation knew that it was probably better to stay in the dark. At least for a little while until they were over their new relationship nerves. Right now she didn't want to know if one of the things he loved about her was something she actually hated.

Tony's hand tightened around hers and he shifted conspicuously in his seat, bringing Ziva's attention back to the ceremony.

"Breena and Jimmy have prepared their own vows," the celebrant was saying. "Breena, would you begin?"

Breena handed her flowers off to her maid of honor in exchange for a folded piece of paper. She turned back to Jimmy with a big smile and then squeezed his hand before delivering her vows.

"Jimmy, I promise to love and honor you for the rest of my days, in sickness and in health, and for better or worse." She paused, and then let out a self-conscious, nervous giggle before swiping a tear off her cheek. "I want you to know that you make me happy every time that I look at you. You bring joy to my life, and you inspire me to be the best person I can be."

Ziva smiled to herself as Tony's thumb swept back and forth over hers. It had been clear from the first time she heard Jimmy talk about Breena that he was completely in love with her, and Ziva was relieved that the feelings were so clearly reciprocated.

"I promise to be your best friend," Breena went on. "I promise to help you achieve your dreams and support you when things are good and bad. I promise I will handle the gardening if you do the cooking, and I promise to stick with you through thick and thin, even if you are the one who's getting thick." She paused while the congregation laughed and Jimmy rubbed his flat belly. "I will let you talk about anatomy and promise to try not to get creeped out by it. This is my vow to you."

Ziva glanced up at Tony with a smile, thinking he'd be smiling back over the strangeness of the autopsy gremlin. But Tony's eyes were glued to the altar and his jaw was set. She realized that his thumb has stopped sweeping over hers, and his posture seemed rigid all of a sudden. She bumped his arm with hers in an effort to get his attention, but Tony's eyes only flicked a millimeter in her direction and the corner of his mouth barely twitched in reply. She pulled his hand from his thigh into her lap and covered it with both of hers. God only knew what had gotten into him all of a sudden. So much for being a romantic.

At the altar, Jimmy was getting ready to pour his heart out to his bride. Ziva leaned forward and craned her head around the woman in front of her to get a better look at the action.

"Breena, I promise to love and honor you for the rest of my days, in sickness and in health, and for better or worse." Jimmy took a shaky breath, and Ziva suddenly felt Tony's hand clench. Perhaps he was just nervous for their friend. "I want you to know that you make me who I am. You make me better at everything. You make me brave."

Jimmy stopped as his voice began to waver, and Breena reached over to cup his cheek and brush a tear off his cheek with a smile. He seemed to take strength from the touch, and took a deep breath before continuing. "I promise to be your best friend and your biggest supporter. I promise you will always be able to depend on me. I promise I will always scrub myself clean after being at a crime scene before I hug you. I promise I won't complain when you insist on putting on your 1990s boy band CDs, and that I will try to learn Latin legal terms to help you study. I promise I will always have your back, no matter what. This is my vow to you."

With Tony doing his impersonation of a statue, Ziva turned to look at Abby. Her friend's hands were clutched together over her heart and the expression on her face gave Ziva the impression that the happiest goth in the world was having some kind of joy-aneurism. She caught Abby's eye, and Abby gave her a melty look before her eyes filled with happy tears. Ziva chuckled and nodded at her. Yes, Jimmy had nailed it. Ziva would bet that the part about having Breena's back was Tony's suggestion—she didn't know anyone more committed to the idea than the man who was the eyes in the back of her head—but she wasn't sure about the rest of it. She'd have to ask him about it later.

By the time the celebrant had presented the new husband and wife and kisses had been exchanged, Tony was relaxed again. He gave Ziva a full smile as Jimmy unexpectedly dipped Breena as they kissed, and he was one of the first to his feet to applaud the couple as they started back up the aisle. Ziva shook her head to herself and let the weird change in personality go. Now wasn't the time or place to bring it up.

After the wedding party passed them, Tony turned and kissed the back of Ziva's hand. "That was nice," he declared.

Ziva opened her mouth to reply, but Abby grabbed her arm and they both turned to find their friend desperately trying to keep her eye makeup from running away with her tears. "Oh my God," Abby sniffled, dabbing under her eyes with a tissue. "That was awesome. Jimmy looked so happy. And Breena was just—"

"She was slammin'," Tony cut in, nodding approvingly. He stopped nodding when Ziva cocked her head to the side and looked at him with dismay. "You didn't think so?"

"Yes, she was. Absolutely," Ziva agreed. "But that is perhaps an inappropriate description for a bride on her wedding day."

"She deserves more class than _'hot'_," Abby added, still wiping her cheeks.

Tony held up his hand in submission. "Okay, she looked great."

"Stunning," Ziva said.

"Glowing," Abby threw in.

"Beautiful," Ziva continued.

"Luminous."

Ducky popped his head around Abby's shoulder. "Smashing," he finished, and then edged his way past her. "Do excuse me. I wish to catch up with Miss Merriweather before the reception."

Ziva and Tony made room for him to pass, and they all watched as he made his way up the stream of guests coming down the aisle to reach Jimmy's Aunt Molly. He gave her a gentlemanly bow over a dashing smile, and then started working the Ducky Magic.

"Molly Merriweather?" Ziva repeated.

"Oh, I love it," Abby grinned.

"Nice to see the old dog still has some tricks," Tony started as he stepped out of the row and into the aisle. He wasn't looking where he was going though, and ended up bumping into the curly-haired flower girl who had thrown petals at them. Ziva watched with a wince as he danced around and tried not to knock the poor girl over, but he managed to find his footing again before either of them fell over or started to cry.

In a gesture that made Ziva's heart unexpectedly thump, Tony reached down to gently cup the back of the girl's head. "Oh, I'm sorry, sweetheart. Are you okay?"

The girl nodded quickly and held out a single red rose petal with a crooked smile. Tony took the peace offering and winked at her.

"Thank you."

The girl shrugged and skipped into the sea of people leaving, and Tony looked back at Ziva and Abby. Ziva covered her suddenly racing heartbeat with a bemused smile as she joined him in the aisle.

"Can we get to the reception now?" she asked. "I would like to have a few glasses of champagne before you are booted out for beating up any more children."

Tony slid his arm around her shoulders as they made their way across the sand. "You'd leave with me if I was booted out?"

She tilted her face up to him with a smile. "You were going to leave with me," she pointed out, thinking of his promise to leave the US with her if her citizenship hadn't come through.

She watched as his smile turned more intimate and his eyes warmed. "I was," he confirmed, and then leant in to kiss her.

"Hey, guys?" Abby called when they parted. They both turned to look over their shoulders at her, and Abby grinned as she snapped a photo of them. "Perfect. Now, let's all go get drunk."

**

* * *

Yes. Let's all of us over the legal age go get drunk. Or at least excuse me while I do, because that chapter was **_**hard**_**. And I know it was **_**really**_** rough. But I just needed to get this thing out there to clear my head so I can work on the final three chapters. Forgive me.  
****Thanks to everyone who's still following this. I'll try to wrap it up before the end of season eight.**


	16. Part 16: The Reception

**A/N: My apologies for the long break between chapters. Real life is extremely busy right now. I appreciate your patience and offer up a chapter of about 10,000 words in penance. Are we good?  
Only two shortish chapters to go after this one, so we're almost there. Thanks to everyone who's been reviewing and favoriting and story alerting. Those alerts make my day.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

**Part 16: The Reception**

The reception was held just off the beach at Breena's grandparents' estate. Tables spilled across the large patio and down onto the lawn, and a handful of hired waiters moved between them to light dozens of candles. Small lanterns were strung up between trees and a large pergola, and a wet bar had been set up beside the house, far away from the dance floor that had been constructed with wooden boards over the swimming pool.

The sun was just starting to set over the water as wedding guests approached the lawn and started trying to work out where they'd been seated. Jimmy, Breena and the rest of the wedding party were down on the beach having their photos taken, and the NCIS group had split up almost as soon as they'd left the sand. Ziva had seen McGee and Cassie dashing back up the access road towards the street, Gibbs and Lola were missing entirely, and Abby had gotten caught up talking to a woman whose arms were covered in tattoos. Only she and Tony had made it to their table on the edge of the patio, halfway between the bar and the dance floor.

Ziva stood by her chair and peered at the three enormous, glossy leaves that were sticking out of tall vases in the middle of the table. Their size along made her think they were fake, but that seemed kind of tacky for people who had as much money as Breena's family obviously had.

"Elephant ears."

Ziva pulled her eyes from the leaves and looked over her shoulder at Tony with a frown. "What did you call me?"

Tony shot her a smile and put his hand in the small of her back. He leaned past her and rubbed the tip of one of the leaves between his thumb and forefinger. "They're called elephant ears."

"I have not seen them before."

"These are just little ones," he said of the leaves that were bigger than both their heads combined. "Down in the tropics the plants can get up to nine feet tall."

Ziva smirked at him and recalled their conversation about birds and chimpanzees at Jimmy's engagement party. "I am beginning to suspect that you were a science nerd in high school."

Tony cocked his head at the table behind them and grinned. "No, I just heard Ducky telling some guy the same thing when we walked past them." He grabbed two glasses from a passing waiter and handed one to her. "Champagne?"

"Thank you." She took the glass with a smile and reached for her chair, but Tony leaned in front of her to pull it out for her. She chuckled. "Thank you, but being a gentlemen is not necessary."

Tony pulled out his own chair and sat beside her. "No, not usually. But we're at a big deal event here, so I've got to at least make the effort."

"You did not make the effort at the engagement party," she pointed out.

Tony shrugged like that was a given. "Because that was only an engagement," he said dismissively. "Anyone can get engaged. Less people actually get all the way to the wedding."

"I do not think people take engagement lightly."

"Sure they do," Tony said, and then smiled in such a way that she knew exactly what was coming. "Will you marry me?"

Ziva smirked at his obvious joke and immediately shook her head. "No."

Tony scoffed as he played up his offence. "Fine. Thanks for breaking it to me gently," he said, but had to hide his smirk behind his champagne glass.

"Did I just hear what I thought I heard?" Abby asked.

Tony and Ziva looked up to see Abby standing behind them, frozen and wide-eyed. They glanced at each other before shaking their heads and replying in unison.

"No."

Abby frowned deeply but continued to her seat beside Tony. "Sometimes it happens," she said to them. "People get overcome with emotion at weddings and they—" She cut herself off when she headbutted one of the huge leaves, and then grabbed it before it fell onto the table. "Oh, whoa."

"They're elephant ears," Ziva told her, drawing an amused look from Tony.

Abby nodded. "Yeah, I know. We had one in the garden when I was a kid. Way smaller than these, though." She plopped into her seat as Ziva sighed at her effort to sound knowledgeable going to waste. "So, I've decided that Lola's okay. She has good taste in music and I don't get a crazy vibe from her." She leaned forward and lowered her voice. "But what in the name of Sam Hell is McGee doing with Cassie Martin?"

Ziva figured she'd let Tony handle this one. They were both invested in the idea of McGee moving on from Abby, but Tony was the true champion of the idea. And he didn't waste the opportunity to set Abby straight on the fact now.

"No," he told her firmly, and pointed at her warningly. "You've made it clear that you're not interested in him anymore so now you don't get to be cranky when he gets his Bombshell McGee on."

"I'm not cranky," Abby insisted, but she couldn't look him in the eye.

Tony softened his tone now that his point had been made. "I don't know about her taste in music, but she's not crazy, Abs. She's perfectly nice."

Abby rolled her eyes. "Well sure, Tony. I'm sure she'd win Miss Congeniality in the NCIS beauty pageant. I just think it's strange that McGee would bring her to a wedding when they've only been seeing each other for, like, two minutes."

"Maybe he likes her," Tony said obviously.

Abby blew out a sigh and regarded him with narrowed eyes. "You've become a lot more argumentative lately, _Anthony_."

"No, I haven't," he insisted. "I've just become pro-everyone-should-just-do-what-makes-them-happy."

Abby shifted her gaze to Ziva. "This is your fault."

Ziva's champagne glass paused halfway to her lips. "Having a positive impact on him? I doubt that is the case, but I would not apologize if I did."

Abby nodded thoughtfully. "Yeah, I guess not." She paused. "Because you're terrible at doing what makes you happy."

Ziva blinked at her, unable to work out whether she was joking, serious, or joking to take the sting out of her seriousness. Hadn't she taken great strides in the last year to doing just that? America made her happy. NCIS made her happy. Tony made her happy. Hadn't she just spent the last year with her neck sticking out on the chopping block? Risking actual death at the hands of her father and Mossad as she turned her back on decades of denying that she had any control over her own life? She knew Abby probably wasn't aware of half of what Ziva had been through in the last 12 months, but that didn't stop tears from pricking the back of her eyes. She looked away as she berated herself for getting stupidly emotional over it and sought safety in her champagne.

She wasn't surprised when her lack of response led Tony to go straight in to bat for her. "Hey, step off, Scuito," he said, his tone even more warning than it had been when he was defending McGee.

Abby blinked. It was extremely rare that Tony took that tone of voice with her. Rarer even than _Gibbs_ taking that tone of voice with her. She shook her head, regretting it instantly. "I was just kidding," she told him, and then looked at Ziva. "Ziva, I was just kidding. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

"It's fine," Ziva cut in, and shot her a polite smile. "I know."

Abby tried to reach over Tony to touch Ziva's arm. "No, Ziva. I just mean—"

"It doesn't matter," Ziva cut her off.

She glanced at Tony to find him giving Abby a hard look. She didn't want to make an issue out of it and ruin their time at the reception, so when she spotted McGee and Cassie coming their way, she shot them a bright smile.

"Tim!" she called. "You made it."

McGee and Cassie looked around the place cards on the table for their names.

"Nice ceremony, huh?" McGee said.

Ziva drew a circle in the air over the chair to her right. "You're over here," she told them. "I think the ceremony was very _them_."

McGee pulled out Cassie's seat before taking his next to Ziva. "Is it wrong that I was kind of expecting Jimmy to tap dance his way through the vows or something?"

Ziva smiled. "That would also be very them," she agreed.

McGee's eyes flicked over Ziva's shoulder to Tony and Abby, and when he looked back at Ziva he shot her a questioning frown. "What's with them?" he whispered.

Ziva swallowed and glanced over her shoulder to see Tony and Abby having a silent conversation with their eyes. Tony was clearly annoyed with her, and Abby was clearly apologetic. She looked back at McGee and shook her head as she waved her hand dismissively. "Nothing. It's fine. So, what happened to you two? I was beginning to think you would not make it."

McGee and Cassie shared a smirk.

"By the skin of our teeth," Cassie said.

"We got a flat," McGee told her. "In the middle of nowhere. No cell reception."

"Took us forever to twist the nuts off," Cassie said dryly.

Ziva watched McGee fight to keep him smile in check, and she chose not to delve into any double entendre she may have been making.

"We ended up having to get changed in the car just up the road," McGee told Ziva. "Didn't have time to check into the hotel first, so we might end up sleeping in the car tonight as well."

"Good thing it's a sedan," Cassie said. "Nice and roomy."

McGee arched an eyebrow at her. "You ever slept in a car?"

Cassie nodded as she reached for her champagne. "Sure, but I don't like talking about my lifestyle pre-NCIS."

McGee chuckled at her joke, but Ziva had to raise her eyebrows to herself. She hadn't had much to do with Cassie before now, and so wasn't familiar with what she was like. But her jokes and double entendres were leaving Ziva with an impression that both disturbed and amused her: had Tim McGee fallen for the female DiNozzo?

"I am sure it won't come to that," Ziva said to them.

"Well, there's always the beach," McGee told Cassie.

"You ever slept on the beach?" Cassie turned back on him. At McGee's head shake, she said, "You'll be shaking sand out of places it was never meant to go for weeks."

McGee made a face as Ziva nodded knowingly. "Chafing," she offered.

"You've done some beach bedding?" Cassie asked.

Ziva got the gist of what she was saying, even if she didn't understand the term. "In the army."

Cassie leaned forward a little. "You were in the army?" she asked in surprise, but before Ziva could reply Cassie answered her own question. "Oh, right. It's mandatory in Israel, isn't it."

"Yes. But I only did the two years."

"And then you joined Mossad," Cassie guessed. "Wow. I gotta tell you, when I heard you'd come from there I was terrified of going anywhere near you. And with Tony as a partner I thought he'd be dead within days."

Ziva looked at McGee, who smiled with six years of team history. Ziva smiled back at him. "There have been...moments," she said, "when he probably only escaped because there were too many witnesses."

"For the record, I never would have turned you in if I saw something," McGee said.

Ziva scrunched her nose at him and pinched his cheek. "You are a keeper, McGee."

Gibbs and Lola were still missing from the table when Jimmy and Breena arrived at the reception. Everyone got to their feet as the newlyweds practically danced with their happiness over to their table, and hidden speakers started playing a contemporary song that Ziva had never heard before. Plenty of other people had though, particularly on Breena's side of the group, and they all sang, whistled and clapped in unison. Ziva looked to Tony for a clue as to whether this behavior was something she should find odd, but when he winked at her and then kissed her cheek in response she was no closer to an answer. She decided it didn't matter that she was lost. Everyone seemed happy, and that's all you could want at a wedding.

The smile on Jimmy's face was somehow even bigger than it had been at the altar as he grabbed a champagne glass and clinked it until everyone went silent.

"Everyone? All the speeches will come later, but before we all drink and eat a little too much I just wanted to thank you all for coming." He looked down at Breena and threaded his fingers into hers. "This has already been the best day of my life by far, and it means a lot that you could all make it. So thanks, and I really hope you enjoy the party."

There was a round of applause before the music started up again, this time at background level, and everyone sat down. While they got stuck in to their second and third glasses of champagne, McGee looked around at his friends and started the conversation that would let them take advantage of Gibbs and Lola's absence.

"So, couldn't help but notice that Lola's not a redhead."

"I know!" Ziva, Tony and Abby replied in unison.

Cassie blinked in surprise at the overwhelming response. "So, Gibbs has a thing for redheads?" she guessed.

"With the exception of Hollis," McGee said, looking between his friends for their agreement, "he has only dated redheads in all the time we've know him."

"He's only ever married redheads as well," Tony added.

Cassie couldn't hold her chuckle. "Gibbs has been married before? I can't see that." The others all held up four fingers, and Cassie's mouth dropped open. "He's been married _four times_?"

"He has a big heart," Abby defended.

"Didn't he and Director Shepard…?"

Tony fielded that one. "Yeah, but not when she was director. It was before, when they were partners." His eyes automatically fell on Ziva, and it was a look that didn't pass Cassie by.

"That seems to happen a lot," she joked.

"More than you'd think," Tony replied.

"Where do you think they are?" Abby asked. "They wouldn't have left, would they?"

"A party animal like Gibbs giving this shindig a miss?" Tony said.

Abby stared at him. "Oh my God. Do you really think he left?"

Tony shook his head, having mercy on her. "I doubt it. They've probably just gone for a walk."

"Maybe they've taken the celebrant aside and are getting a quickie wedding," Cassie suggested.

Silence descended over the table for five long seconds as everyone thought about that and weighed up the likelihood of there being another Mrs Gibbs.

"Fifth time's a charm," Tony cracked.

Abby stood up from the table. "I'll be right back," she said, and then dashed off back towards the beach.

"I was joking," Cassie pointed out.

McGee nodded. "Yeah, but there's a precedent."

Cassie looked thoughtful. "I guess if he's been married four times already, he must like being married."

"No, he hates being married," Tony said. "That's why he keeps getting divorced. He likes the lead up to the marriage."

Cassie blew out a breath and shook her head. "That guy is not who I thought he was."

"He's not getting married," Tony said confidently. "The guy just bought a new truck."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

McGee put his hand on Cassie's back and gave her a lesson in Gibbs. "Everything. He gets married now, he'll be divorced again in a year, and he will lose that truck in the split. There's no way he's going to let that happen."

"He's not getting married," Tony repeated.

"At least not until the truck's depreciated in value."

Cassie shot a look at Ziva. "Wow. Romantic."

Ziva shrugged. "I am not complaining. He is a difficult man to work with at the best of times. Can you imagine what it would be like to work with him as he goes through a divorce?"

Cassie tipped her glass at her. "Excellent point."

* * *

Ziva was taking a little walk around the garden after dinner, trying to digest and make more room for cake when she spotted McGee by the edge of the garden talking to a guest she recognized from the engagement party. He was wearing his _I was brought up to be polite and that's the only reason I haven't walked away_ face, so Ziva headed over to help him out. McGee spotted her just before she reached them, and he shot her a _need backup_ look. She smiled and joined the pair.

"Tim! I have been looking for you," she said, and linked her arm through his. She looked up at his companion with apology. "I'm so sorry, but I need Tim for a few minutes. Excuse us."

The guy nodded but Ziva was pulling McGee away before waiting for his reaction. She led him through the crowd as if they had a destination in mind until she was sure they were out of sight, and then sat at an empty table overlooking the beach.

McGee fell into the seat beside her. "Thank you," he said, and flicked spilt champagne off his hand. "I'd kiss you if Tony wouldn't punch me."

"You appeared to be in conversational pain."

McGee rolled his eyes. "He was telling me about how his ex-girlfriend caught him in bed with another woman and then stabbed him with a corkscrew."

"A corkscrew?" Ziva repeated, one eyebrow raised in interest. "I had not thought of that before."

The champagne in McGee's system had him looking more amused than disturbed. "If it makes you feel better, I don't think she'd planned ahead. Sounded like she just grabbed whatever pointy thing was closest to her."

Ziva tapped her fingernail against her glass thoughtfully. "Still. That is useful information to have."

"You're really gross sometimes, you know that?"

Ziva shrugged, and then gave him a teasing, affectionate smile. "So. Cassie." She hadn't had much of a chance to talk to him about his new relationship before now and she was keen to find out how it had started and how serious McGee was about it.

McGee gave her a self-aware smirk. "Yep."

"I must be honest. I did not see that coming."

McGee raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement. "Neither did I. I mean, we hadn't even really talked that much before she asked me out."

Ziva thought she detected a hint of self-doubt in his tone, and she didn't like it. She wanted him to start having more confidence in himself. "She had probably been admiring you from afar for a while."

"Maybe," McGee said, and then shrugged and smiled. "Stranger things have happened." He looked pointedly over at Tony who was having an animated conversation with a guy he'd met at the bachelor party, and then back at Ziva. Ziva played at being annoyed with him for all of two seconds before she bumped his elbow with hers. He had an excellent point. Tony and Ziva not just getting together but actually making it work was very strange indeed.

"So, how is it going?" she asked.

"Good. I like her. She's a lot of fun."

The smile on his face was genuine, but Ziva still heard the slight hesitation in his voice. His eyes flicked towards the crowd for just a moment before returning to his glass, and Ziva followed the direction of his gaze to try to work out where he was looking. She wasn't surprised when she saw Abby nearby, chatting up Breena's cousin and laughing.

Despite their brief argument earlier, Ziva did love Abby like a sister. But that didn't mean she was keen to see her and McGee sort out their differences and live happily ever after. Before he'd drunkenly declared his love to Ziva over the phone a few weeks back when he'd thought she was Abby, Ziva had been very clear on the fact that McGee still had feelings for her and wanted to work things out. But Ziva had also been clear that Abby had no intention of returning those feelings, despite the hugs and kisses she showered on McGee from time to time. That alone was reason enough for Ziva to want to help McGee move past his fixation. She had been in one-sided relationships before (more than once, she was embarrassed to admit) and she was familiar with the hurt and humiliation they could bring. McGee did not deserve to put up with those feelings anymore, especially when they were being brought about by someone who did truly love him, just not in the way he wanted.

"That's good," she said, taking him comments at face value in an effort to encourage him _away_ from Abby. "You deserve to be happy."

McGee shot her a side eye. "You're not going to be one of those people who tries to shove happiness down everyone else's throats as soon as _they're_ happy, are you? Because those people are really annoying."

"No!" she insisted, even as she smiled at how happy she did feel these days. "I just think it is good that you are dating and looking after yourself."

She got a frown in response. "Are you about to give me the same talk that Tony gave me?"

"What talk?"

"The _it's never going to happen with Abby, so get over it_ talk."

Ziva's mouth fell open in disbelief. "He did _not_ say that," she said, appalled at the idea that her partner could be so harsh with McGee's feelings.

But McGee shook his head and waved his hand dismissively. "Not in so many words. He sugar-coated it." He frowned again. "I think. I was pretty drunk."

Ziva assumed this "talk" had been had at the bachelor party. "I remember."

He winced at her. "I didn't throw up on you, did I?"

"You would have heard about it by now," she assured him.

"Yeah."

"I think Tony has a point," she said, backing her partner up because they agreed on the point. "It has been a long time since you and Abby were…closer."

McGee glanced at her with a small, sad smile. "I know." He paused. "Do you and Tony really not see the hypocrisy in telling me to get over it because it's been so long?"

Ziva frowned. "What hypocrisy?"

"You're telling me to move on when you guys spent _six years_ refusing to move on from each other."

Ziva considered that, but shook her head. "That is not entirely true."

"You never moved on," McGee said point blank, and then cocked an eyebrow that dared her to argue.

But Ziva did argue. "I think we both tried at points. Different points," she said, thinking of other partners, however fleeting, they'd both had.

McGee leaned towards her. "But you couldn't let it go."

She held his gaze, and then had to smile as she offered him the truth. "No."

"So why should I?" McGee asked softly.

Ziva's chest panged with empathy. But for the grace of God, she could have found herself in the same situation. She'd lost count of the number of times over the years she'd told herself to let Tony go and move on, and each time she did her heart ached and hopelessness stung the backs of her eyes. She'd never talked to McGee about it back then, but if she had she was sure he would have told her what she was telling him now. _It's not going to happen, so move on_. Would she have taken his advice? Ziva doubted it. So she could hardly blame him now for putting up one last fight. But she would argue the point with him.

"Tim, Tony and me did not let go because there have always been signs that we were on the right course," she said gently. "Even when we were with other people, there was always something between us."

"You don't think Abby's on my course?" he asked. He wasn't fighting. He wasn't resisting. He was honestly asking.

Ziva gave him a soft look that told him everything and apologized at the same time. And even though her face was honest with him, she couldn't make her mouth follow suit. "I don't know," she lied, but it was a lie to soothe the sting of her expression.

McGee looked forlorn, and Ziva's eyes left him for a moment to see if Tony was nearby. When it came to McGee, Tony was much better at dolling out the tough love McGee seemed to need. But Tony had moved on from where she had seen him last, so she would have to see this through on her own.

"McGee, she just seems to want different things," Ziva said, and put her hand on top of his. "And I don't want you to spend your life waiting for her to change her mind. There are few truly good men around, but you are one of them, and you deserve to be with someone who knows that and respects you for it every day."

McGee shot her a grateful smile and squeezed her hand, and then looked away quickly before he embarrassed himself. Ziva gave him the few moments he needed before he looked back at her again with a much more teasing smile.

"Are you hitting on me right now?"

Ziva sighed, but was smiling when she replied. "We were having such a nice moment, McGee. You did not have to ruin it by channeling Tony."

He nodded and briefly glanced in Abby's direction again. "I know she's not on my path. I just really wanted her to be."

"I know," Ziva said. "But someone else will be. And I may turn into one of those annoying happy people who will try to help you find them."

McGee's eyes rolled in his head, but his smirk was friendly. "Gee, can't wait for that."

Ziva gave his hand a final pat and then sat back in her seat again. "You should go dance with Cassie now."

"Are you going to order me around?"

Ziva nodded like it was a given. "Yes. I am."

McGee finished the last of his champagne and left the glass on the table as he stood up. Before he left for the dance floor, he leant over to kiss Ziva's cheek. "Thank you."

"You are welcome."

McGee turned just as the very unmarried Lola arrived at the table and set down her glass.

"Don't leave on my account."

McGee stuttered in the way he did when he was nervous he'd upset someone. "No! No no. I was just…I was already going. I have to—"

Lola held her hand up and gave him a warm smile. "I'm kidding, Tim. It's fine. I saw you get up."

McGee hesitated before leaving. "Are you enjoying the party?"

"Sure!" Lola said as she took a seat on the other side of Ziva. "They've got real champagne here instead of the ten dollar sparkling wine crap I usually buy."

"You will have a much better quality of hangover tomorrow morning," Ziva offered.

Lola laughed. "I was going to say I'll make a much classier fool of myself later on."

Ziva tipped her glass at her in agreement before taking a sip. McGee excused himself to go in search of Cassie, and Lola watched him go with a smile.

"You know, I really am glad I came," Lola told her. "I was so nervous this week and I was thinking of canceling, but I'm glad I didn't."

"Why were _you_ nervous?" Ziva asked. Not even the groom had been nervous before the ceremony, so she couldn't guess why one of the guests would be.

Lola looked a little embarrassed. "Oh, you know. You're such a tight group. I could tell that before I met you all, and today has just confirmed that. I guess I was worried that you would all close ranks on me."

Ziva thought it was interesting that she'd had the impression that they were a tight group. She could only have gotten that impression from their tough, stand off-ish boss, and Ziva began to wonder how much Gibbs talked about them all when they weren't around. She decided not to address that though, and did her best to make Lola feel welcomed.

"Of course we would not do that. We are all pleased to finally meet you."

Lola smiled, but looked off towards Abby who was still flirting with Breena's cousin. "I think Abby is still a little wary of me."

Ziva held back her sigh. It was not Abby's fault, but she did seem to be at the centre of several problems tonight. "Abby can be difficult with new women," Ziva said with as much care as she could find. "It is not personal. She is simply ferociously protective of Gibbs and Tony and Tim. She already likes you, but she will warm up more in time."

Lola gave her an appreciative smile. "I hope so. I'm really happy with Jethro and I know how much he cares for her. I would hate to be a point of friction between them."

Tony's lecture about being a referee between his girlfriend and other female friends came to Ziva's mind, and she had to smile to herself. The man's unexpected insight into things made him seem like goddamn Oprah at times. She relayed some of his wisdom now. "They will work it out between them. Don't worry about it."

"Thank you."

She had already pried into one relationship tonight, and so Ziva was less shy about sticking her nose into another. Even taking into account that it was Gibbs' relationship she was asking about. There was a possibility that this could get her shipped off to Afghanistan, but Lola seemed a lot more open and, well, normal than Gibbs, and Ziva decided to chance it. "So, things are going well between you?"

Lola smiled indulgently, and Ziva decided that she would not have another stamp in her passport by sunrise. "I think so."

"That's great."

"He's hard work at times," Lola confided, as though Ziva hadn't worked every day with the most difficult of men for the last six years. "I've had to go hardass on him a few times to keep everything together. But I'm glad I did."

Her sincerity made Ziva smile, and her good feeling about this woman solidified. "He is hard work at times, but I find the reward is worth it."

"Diamond in the rough, I think," Lola said.

Ziva thought of what Jenny Shepard said once, about Gibbs being like the Hope Diamond—a valuable gem that comes with a curse. She thought Jenny had probably been right, but she wasn't about to share that with Lola.

Lola sipped her champagne and turned the spotlight onto Ziva. "How long have you and Tony been together? Jethro gave the impression that it was quite new, but in meeting you both I don't get that vibe."

Ziva thought about fobbing the question off. She barely knew Lola, and she was not inclined to share personal information with even close friends, let alone a stranger. But Lola had been open about her relationship, and because she seemed genuinely keen on a man Ziva had great love for, she made the effort to respond in kind.

"We have been partners for six years," Ziva told her. "Partners at work. It breeds a level of familiarity. _Intense_ familiarity. We have been very close for a long time because of that, but our relationship is still quite new."

"He seemed to be very happy for you."

It took a moment for Ziva to catch up and realize that Lola was referring to Gibbs, and another moment for her to get over her surprise. "Did he?" she asked. She kept her tone as casual as possible in the hopes of milking more information out of her.

"Sure," Lola said. "He said he'd been expecting it for a long time, but was glad you'd waited." She gave Ziva a kind smile. "I think he's really pulling for you."

The second-hand retelling of her father figure's acceptance of her risky relationship made Ziva's throat tight and eyes sting. But she covered it by sending Lola a gracious smile. "We're trying."

Lola looked at her for a moment too long, and Ziva wondered if she'd shown her cards after all. But if she did, Lola didn't address it. She just took another sip of champagne and moved the conversation along.

"You know, it's so funny to hear him talk about you all, and then to meet you and try to see what he sees. And to see how he behaves with you all." She laughed and settled further back into her chair, and then crossed her legs towards Ziva and smiled like they'd been sharing secrets for years. "Honestly, I almost expected him to greet you all with hugs and kisses. It's funny to see him act so gruff with you all."

Ziva's emotion was replaced with keen interest. She couldn't wait to tell Tony about this. "Really? Usually he greets us with a grunt, a glare and a smack to the back of the head."

Lola shook her head as she struggled to reconcile that information with the man she knew. "I don't see that side at all. He just seems so genuinely happy to be with you all. And Tony! He has been making so much fun of Tony all night, but at home he just says how proud he is."

Ziva's tight throat returned, and she felt a bubble of pride grow in her chest. "I think Tony knows that Gibbs is proud of him. But Gibbs is very good at separating the job from whatever paternal feelings he might have. He is a marine, after all. And Tony is a career cop. They do not spend a lot of time patting each other on the back and thanking each other for their work."

Lola chuckled. "No, I suppose not." She pointed at Ziva. "Paternal feelings. That is the perfect way to put it. I think he feels that way about all of you."

Ziva felt the smile spread over her face. "Well, good. Because we all feel very lucky to have him."

* * *

Hours later after the cake had been cut and Tony had eaten his second piece (and then started on _Ziva's_ second piece), he found himself alone at the table with Cassie Martin. He'd been watching her dance with McGee all night and she'd seemed more than happy to be in the company of McTwoLeftFeet, but Tony was keen to make sure she was being above board with the kid and not just using him for cheap sex like she'd used Tony. Not that Tony had cared much back then. He was pretty much using her for the same thing. There were absolutely no hard feelings there.

"How's it going, Cassie Martin?" he asked.

"My feet hurt," she said around a mouthful of cake. "But the cake and champagne are helping me deal with that."

"That's what friends are for," Tony said.

"In good times, and bad times," Cassie continued.

Tony made a face. "Stop before I have to do my Dionne Warwick impersonation."

Cassie snorted into her cake. "I assume you mean singing, but I'd be equally horrified if you started trying to channel the ghost of my uncle Larry."

Tony touched his fingers to his temple. "He's telling me there's a new romance on the horizon."

"Stop it before I shoot you," Cassie warned.

Tony's eyes flicked over her. Her dress was short and not exactly roomy. "I don't believe you have your gun on you right now."

"Of course I do," Cassie replied airily.

Tony had to ask. "Where, exactly?"

Cassie just wagged her eyebrows. He decided against pushing for more information because although Ziva's dress was just as short and tight, he had seen her strap her gun on with his own two eyes, and he didn't think she'd be shy about retrieving it if he was caught inspecting Cassie's inner thigh.

He cleared his throat and speared another piece of cake. "You glad you gave McGee a shot?"

Cassie gave him a closed-lipped smile as she swallowed some cake. "Yeah. I like him."

He pointed his fork at her. "If you two end up having kids you have to name the first boy Tony."

Cassie rolled her eyes. "Kids? That's getting a little ahead of things, buddy. This is only our ninth date."

"Nine dates in three weeks?" Tony pointed out. "And the ninth is to a _wedding_?"

"I'm friends with Jimmy!" Cassie defended, even as a slight blush stained her cheeks. "And it's got to be longer than three weeks."

"Jimmy's bachelor party was three weeks ago. That's when he told me you were going out."

Cassie stuck her tongue in her cheek as she thought about that and realized he was right. "Oh. Well, so what?"

"No, it's good," Tony told her.

Cassie eyed him over her glass, swallowed some champagne and then sighed. "You were right, you know. He's a really good guy."

"Told you so."

Cassie arched a nonchalant eyebrow. "Pretty good in bed, too."

Tony slowly swallowed a mouthful of cake and tried not to shudder from head to toe. "Wow," he choked out, and then coughed to clear his throat. "You know, I think I could have gone my whole life without needing to know that, Cass."

Cassie grinned at his obvious discomfort. "I just wanted to you to know that you've scored yourself some good karma points, Tony," she said sweetly.

"Lucky me," he muttered. "Make sure you're good to him, okay?"

Cassie's smile fell a little, but she was far from offended. "I'm not using him, if that's what you're getting at."

"It is, and it isn't," Tony said. "Just be good."

"Cross my heart," she said, and then the teasing smile was back. "So, you and Ziva _aren't_ dating?"

The last time they'd spoken, Tony had denied it. Technically he'd been telling the truth, sort of. But it didn't take a trained investigator to look at them tonight and decide they were probably more than friends and coworkers. He smiled at her. "Things have progressed since the last time we spoke."

Cassie almost laughed at his understatement. "I'm glad you cleared that up, Tony. Because I was sitting here thinking that I must've missed a memo from Vance about new protocols for interacting with your partner. I wasn't really looking forward to giving Bateman a kiss every time I saw him, but you've got to follow orders."

"Your sarcasm is noted."

"Good."

Tony picked up his glass. "I don't think Vance is going to hold me and Ziva up as an example to be followed anytime soon. And that's even without him knowing that there's anything inappropriate going on."

"He doesn't know?"

Tony shook his head. "No. We decided against sipping that little nugget of information into our last case report."

Cassie gave him a sidelong look. "But Gibbs knows, right?"

"Yeah. But listen," he said, and leaned over just a little. "I know everyone in the agency already thinks that they know, but it'd be really nice not to confirm it for them."

Cassie winked at him, assuring him their semi-secret was safe. "Got it. I guess that means she's not moving to L.A.?"

"No."

"And she's not switching teams?"

Tony deliberately misunderstood her meaning. "No, the sex is amazing and she seems pretty happy. But if she wanted to try out some new things I'd be open to—"

"I'll take that as a _no_," Cassie cut in.

"Not that I'm aware of," he replied with a grin. "But if you want to keep dating McGee you probably shouldn't join our team anyway. It'll lead to a whole mess of problems for you and us."

Cassie stared at him in silence, and Tony held his hand up in defense.

"I'm not lacking self-awareness, okay? Ziva and me are different."

"Why?" Cassie asked as she leaned in and peered at him. "What makes you so goddamn special?"

Tony cocked his head at her. "Are you Jeanie Bueller-ing me right now?"

Cassie nodded. "Yeah, I watched that movie last night. It's still pretty funny."

"Yeah," Tony agreed. "Ziva and me are different because we've paid our dues."

Cassie stared at him for a moment longer and then leaned back again and reached for her glass. "Fair enough. I guess I'm stuck with Bateman for a while."

Tony waved his fork. "These trials are sent to test us."

"Shut up, Tony."

* * *

Ziva had finished up in the bathroom and was smoothing her hair down in the mirror when the door the bathroom swung open and Abby filled the doorframe. She watched Abby's eyes widen with hope that she'd be able to explain her comment from earlier, and Ziva sighed to herself. She really didn't want to get into this argument now. Or ever. She just wanted to forget about it.

Abby took a breath and opened her mouth, but Ziva cut her off before she started.

"Abby, it's fine," she said, and threw her a small smile. "Don't worry about it."

"It's not fine," Abby argued, and shut the door behind her.

Ziva took advantage of the oversized bathroom to take a step back and leave some distance between them. She leaned against the wall by an armchair that was pushed up against the counter under the mirror, and as Abby stood in the middle of the room and faced her, Ziva toed off one of her shoes and wriggled feeling back into her toes. If they were going to do this, she didn't need her head clouded with the pain that stilettos brought.

"I know you're pissed at me, and Tony's _really_ pissed at me. But I swear I didn't mean it the way it came out," Abby told her.

Ziva sighed. "Abby, I am not pissed at you. You are entitled to whatever opinion—"

Abby took a step forward and cut her off. "No, just let me explain."

"Okay."

Abby clasped her hands together in front of her chest as she collected her thoughts. "I guess I just feel like you've always been about duty and honor," she started. "And I totally respect that. But when you've talked about that in the last year or two, it felt to me like you'd maybe started resenting always being faithful to Mossad and to your dad."

Ziva took a calming breath and told herself to hear Abby out. She didn't think Abby had a clue how she really felt about Mossad and her father, mostly because Ziva had never spoken to her about them. But that did not automatically mean that her outsider's perspective would be blatantly incorrect.

Abby softened her tone as she became aware of the eggshells she was treading on. "You seemed sad when you talked about them. So I guess I kind of got used to you being like that. Not letting yourself do what makes you happy, you know? Because it was your duty to do things that didn't necessarily make you all warm and fuzzy every day."

She took another step towards Ziva and went for a second, but her foot slid back again at the barest of glares Ziva sent her. Ziva was not a person you wanted to crowd when you were not entirely in her good books.

"But Ziva, I know you do," she went on. "I know you've done a lot lately that makes you happy. And I know that must have taken a lot of guts. I mean, you're Ziva so you're, like, operating at peak gutsiness every day anyway. But the stuff you've done lately, quitting Mossad and getting your US citizenship and all the Tony stuff? That's extra super Ziva gutsy. I didn't mean to down play everything you've done lately or suggest they were just some trivial or token gestures."

Ziva stared at her for a moment as the Abby-to-English translator in her head finished its job, and then shot her a small, grateful smile. She didn't want to fight about this anymore, and so she took Abby at her most likely truthful word. "Thank you."

Sensing that all was forgiven, Abby shot forward to squeeze her in a bone-crushing hug. "I didn't mean to mean, Ziva. I just wasn't listening to myself."

Ziva patted her back and tried to pull away. "It's okay."

But Abby didn't let go. "I'm really glad you had the guts to do the Tony thing."

A champagne-laced smile of indulgence tugged at Ziva's lips. "Me too."

Abby finally let go of her, but barely took a step away. She took both of Ziva's hands in hers and looked down at her with wide, serious eyes that left Ziva wary of whatever nugget of Abby Wisdom was about to come out at her.

"Do you guys get how special you are?"

Ziva looked at her askance. "Is that a polite way of saying that we are a bit…" She drew a circle in the air beside her head, suggesting they were crazy. "Because yes, we do understand that sometimes we are quite _special_."

Abby melted into an affectionate grin. "No, that's not what I mean." She leaned back against the sink and gave Ziva a big smile. "I've known Tony for a really long time, and that whole time he has been special. But he's only been extraordinary since he met you. You guys fit like no one I've ever seen."

As Abby took a breath, Ziva's eyes filled for the second time that night. That was easily one of the nicest things anyone had ever said to her, even if she knew it was _slightly_ manipulative of her friend who was trying to get out of trouble. Ziva wasn't going to point it out, though.

"I've wanted to tell you that for a while," Abby said. "You guys together are one of the things that make me happy, because the fact that the universe let you two find each other when you started off on different ends of the earth gives me faith that there is someone out there for everyone. And we all have a chance at finding them."

Although Ziva believed in fate and destiny and soul mates, she'd only ever thought about them in an abstract sort of way and hadn't spent much time applying those beliefs to her own life. Certainly she'd never applied them to her relationship with Tony. But while she didn't take her beliefs so far as to think that the entire universe had worked together to put her in Tony's path as Abby was suggesting, there was a part of her that had always known that where she was now was the place she was supposed to end up in. She met him and he'd bugged the crap out of her, but something in her gut, even on that first night with they stood in the rain and talked about Tali, had tingled with the knowledge that she'd found something in him that complemented her.

But was it fate? Tony didn't believe in fate. Despite his romantic heart, he was a firm believer in cause and effect, free will and consequence. So if she believed in it but he didn't, what did that mean for them?

Nothing, she decided. It didn't mean anything because it didn't matter. They were together now and they were happy, and if they were giving their friends hope that they'd be happy too one day, then who cared if it was destiny or a random stroke of luck that had them meet?

She abandoned her deep thoughts in favor of wrapping her arms around Abby's shoulders and giving her a tight hug. It wasn't an action that Ziva was entirely comfortable with but hugs fuelled Abby as much as Caf-Pow and forensic riddles did. It was the least she could do after all the heartfelt and touching things that Abby had just said to her.

"Thank you, Abby," she said.

Abby squeezed her back. "Just thought you should know where I stood on the issue."

Tony spotted Ziva stepping out of the house with Abby and watched them warily as they made their way through the crowd. He was still annoyed at Abby for speaking so thoughtlessly, and although Ziva had waved it off he knew she'd been hurt. Seeing them together had him concerned that Ziva would drop her Zen act and put Abby in her place, but right now they were both smiling and looked like firm friends sharing a joke. He hoped that meant that they'd sorted things out.

Abby peeled off and made a beeline for the guy she'd been crushing on all night and Ziva continued her path towards him. He smiled at her as she passed behind him, her hand skimming across his shoulders before she took her seat beside him.

"Everything okay?" he asked.

Ziva glanced over at Abby before nodding at him. "Yes. We talked and she got me back on side by attacking my weak spot."

Tony played up his surprise. "You have a weak spot?"

She smiled coyly. "Yes."

He put his hand on her knee. "Well, you have to tell me what it is so I can exploit it in any arguments we have in the future."

"You already do exploit it," she told him.

Tony's eyes went skyward as he gave superficial thought to what it could be. "Is it when I mimic your voice?"

"No. That just pisses me off."

"Oh. So I'm reading that sign correctly?"

"Yes."

He smiled and gave up his consideration of her perceived weaknesses in favor of indulging in the playfulness he felt brought on by an unknown number of glasses of champagne. "Hey, you know what I think about tonight?"

Ziva shook her head and reached for his water glass. "No, but I have a feeling you will tell me anyway."

"That must be because you know me so well."

"Must be."

He drummed his fingers on her knee. "And yet, you don't know what I think?"

Ziva reached over to briefly brush her thumb over his jaw. "I like to be surprised by you."

"You sure about that?"

"Why would I not be sure about that?"

He grinned at her. He didn't know why he was bringing this up when the potential for it making everything go pear-shaped was so high, but the child within him couldn't resist baiting her. "Because a couple of hours ago I asked you to marry me out of the blue, but you turned me down."

Ziva snorted and rolled her eyes. "That wasn't because I don't like it when you surprise me."

"Then why was it?" He hadn't really been looking for a _yes_ from her, but he was curious.

"Because you were joking," she said obviously. "And because if we got married we'd end up killing each other almost immediately afterwards."

Tony considered that. "You're mostly right," he told her. If pressed, he might almost have to admit that there was a tiny part of him that might have been serious.

Ziva sent him soft eyes and a smile that always made his chest grow warm. "What do you think?" she asked, getting their conversation back on track.

"I think there's too much love in the room," he declared.

"Too much?" she repeated.

"Yes."

"At a _wedding_?"

He shrugged and smiled at her incredulous tone. "It's uncomfortable."

Ziva stared at him silently for a moment, no doubt trying to work out if he was serious or just trying to amuse himself. "Tony, I know you were not hugged very often as a child, but you certainly receive many hugs now."

"And for that, I am grateful," he said, and lifted her hand to kiss it. "But isn't it strange to see all these hardened law enforcement and medical professionals fawning and mooning all over each other?"

The corner of Ziva's mouth turned upwards. "Hardened?"

"Yes."

The smile grew. "McGee is _hardened_?"

She had a point. "Well, no. McGee's a soft boiled egg."

"Jimmy?" she challenged.

"He's still runny," Tony allowed.

"_You?_"

Tony sat up straighter. "I'm hardened," he protested.

The look of affection she gave him made her stance on that statement clear, but she verbalized it anyway. "No, you're not."

"I can be hardened," he argued.

Ziva brushed her fingertips through his hair. "Yes, you can. But it goes against your nature."

She was right, of course. But the cop in him was very mildly offended. "You need to stop telling people that."

She raised an eyebrow. "You would prefer me to tell them that you are a hardened cop bastard?"

"No, you just don't have to tell them I'm mushy inside," he told her. "That's just a thing to keep between us."

She smiled fully. "Okay. But it's just you and me now, and you know I know what lurks beneath your hard candy shell—"

"I'm 70 per cent cocoa," he shot in.

Ziva chuckled. "Why are you pretending to me now that all the love in the room isn't putting you on a natural high like we both know it is?"

"I don't mind the love between strangers," he explained. "It's our friends and co-workers that are wigging me out."

"They are what?"

He ignored the question. "See, Jimmy and Breena are acting all Mike and Carol Brady."

"Yes, I keep meaning to watch all those episodes where Mike went to work in a morgue," Ziva said dryly.

He ignored her some more. "Gibbs is behaving in a human-like manner and he's actually _smiling_ at Lola. I forgot the man had teeth, Ziva."

"I see."

"Ducky's getting action with Aunt Molly," he went on. "Abby's been drooling over Breena's cousin for a while now."

"He is extremely attractive," Ziva told him.

"I know," he allowed. "McGee's got his hands on Cass at every opportunity, and you? You're looking at me like…" He trailed off as he regarded her, and managed to pull another chest-warming smile out of her.

"Like what?"

He smiled back at her. "Like you want to hug me later."

Ziva leaned over and gave him a soft, lingering kiss that made his head that was already full of champagne bubbles even lighter.

"Yes, I do," she told him.

He tightened his hand on her knee and pecked her again before continuing his train of thought. "It's bothersome." Ziva's eyebrows went up sharply, and Tony quickly shook his head and backpedaled. "No, not the you part. I like the you part."

Her eyebrows fell again and she shrugged away his discomfort. "If it bothers you, then just don't look at it."

"Isn't that how Springfield killed off all the advertising mascots that came to life?"

Ziva sent him a quizzical look, clearly not picking up the reference. "I can't answer that."

"You don't think there's too much love in the room?"

"No," she said, shaking her head. "And I _am_ hardened."

His head fell to the side as he gazed at her. "No, you're not."

"I have my moments," she pushed. "Many moments."

Tony read between the lines. "Don't listen to Abby."

"She had a point," Ziva said softly.

"No, she didn't," he insisted. "She's out of the loop, Ziva."

Ziva sighed and asked, "Why do I keep her out of the loop?"

"Because Abby can be colorblind to shades of grey," he replied, referring to Abby's hardline right or wrong way of looking at things. "Ziva, she knows what you've been through this year. She just forgets how hard it is for you because that stuff is the easiest for her."

"Choosing happiness?"

Tony shrugged a yes. "She was hugged a lot as a child."

Ziva smiled at his insistence at having her back as her fingers found his on her knee. "I want to hug you later."

"I'm always available for that."

She smiled before leaning over to kiss him again. "Come dance with me."

"I thought you'd never ask."

Across the room, Gibbs watched as Ziva led Tony to the dance floor as Al Green's _Let's Stay Together_ came over the speakers. There was an easiness between them tonight that Gibbs didn't think he'd ever seen, and frankly hadn't been expecting. On paper, a wedding should have been one of the most uncomfortable places for a commitment-phobe like Tony and an emotionally restrained woman like Ziva to be in, even taking into account their recent commitment to each other. But in practice, they'd easily been the most relaxed people at their table and were having the most fun. Gibbs couldn't help but think that after all the roadblocks they'd had to navigate when everyone (including them) expected them to crash and burn, the two of them were now having the last laugh.

On the dance floor Tony dipped Ziva low, causing her to break into a gale of laughter that Gibbs was _positive_ he'd never seen. Her reaction put a huge smile on Tony's face before he brought her upright again and kissed her cheek, and although Gibbs was more than a little uncomfortable about all the affection they'd shown each other tonight, he wouldn't deny that he was happy for them. He admired the balls it took for them to do this. But that was typical for Tony and Ziva. They always seemed braver when the other was around and they were loyal to each other to the last. Gibbs didn't know what the two of them would have done if Ziva had to leave, but he was sure they would have had a plan. Although they'd broken Gibbs' rule 12 in spectacular fashion, one they were both fiercely committed to was Tony's rule of never leaving a man behind. There was no way in hell that they were going to start breaking it with each other.

* * *

**I just want to say that I am not nearly as mushy and romantic and blah blah blah destiny as Abby is here. The honest truth is that I an a heartless, cynical bitch who rolls her eyes at love and affection and finds it intensely uncomfortable when anyone but my mother so much as hugs me (and even then I only put up with it because she's my mother and I don't really have a choice). My point is, I kind of want to kick my own ass for this lovefest, but I've written myself into this corner and now I just have to go with it.  
Aaanyway. I hope the jumps between scenes weren't too jarring. My first cut of this chapter came in above 14,000 words so I had to edit the crap out of it. Apologies if you've ended up feeling discombobulated.**


	17. Part 17: The Hotel Room

**A/N:**** Apologies to all those who I've bummed out recently.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

**Part 17: The Hotel Room**

Tony and Ziva rolled out of a cab at the hotel sometime after midnight but well before dawn. They'd lost track of their friends after Ziva and Abby's conversation in the bathroom, and after a little dancing they'd decided that eight hours of celebration plus champagne plus rich food plus conversation equaled get-the-hell-out-of-here-before-falling-asleep-on-table-top. Tony had made noises about finding Abby to make sure she got home safe, but Ziva had convinced him that she'd be too busy nailing Breena's cousin to give much patience to Tony's big brother act. The idea of stumbling across Abby _in flagrante delicto_ had disturbed Tony enough that he agreed to a quick _Let me know when you get home_ text. Abby had responded almost immediately that she _was_ home, and that she was _busy_, thankyouverymuch, pleasegoaway.

Tony made a face at the message while he and Ziva waited in the lobby of the hotel for the elevator to come up from the basement garage.

"That's gross," he murmured, mostly to himself. But Ziva heard him and took him to task.

"It's sex," she stated. "I know you are well acquainted with the concept."

"Not with the concept of my little sister—"

"Who is only three years younger than you," Ziva shot in.

"—getting up to anonymous—"

"They seemed well acquainted earlier this evening."

"—one-night-stand sex," he finished.

Ziva leaned against the wall beside the elevator doors and crossed her arms. "You are becoming a prune."

"You mean 'prude'," he corrected. "And I am not. Like I said before, I'm just uncomfortable with being confronted with firm evidence that my work colleagues and surrogate family are engaged in adult activity."

"Yes, I can see why people acting like grown ups would be a bother to you, Tony," she returned, deliberately twisting his words as she smirked up at him.

Tony threw her a faux bitchy smile as the elevator pinged and the doors opened. Ziva stepped in and found Gibbs and Lola already inside, coming up from the basement where the sober Gibbs had parked. She gave them a tired, friendly smile and then leant her tired body against the back wall. She assumed Tony would follow her, but her partner remained in the foyer and held his hand out to Ziva like he expected her to step out again.

"Oh. Hey, boss," he said, making an attempt at casual even if his discomfort at sharing a hotel lift with their partners was clear on his face. "Don't worry, we'll take the next one." He gestured at Ziva to come with him, but she snorted at his embarrassment and gave him a tired wave. She wasn't getting out.

"Bye."

Tony sighed and jumped between the elevator doors just before they closed. The rapid action cause his half-drunk feet to stumble, and he had to brace himself with a hand against the wall next to Ziva's head to avoid crushing her. Ziva's hands came up to rest on his chest.

"Easy," she told him. "How'd that make your head feel?"

Tony squeezed his eyes shut. "My head's fine, but I think it's my duty to tell you all that the elevator is spinning."

Ziva pushed against his chest and guided him back against the wall. "Lean."

He followed her instruction and waited until he felt like he'd stopped swaying before opening his eyes. Gibbs was looking at him with tired familiarity, as if his senior field agent stumbling drunkenly into an elevator and almost body-slamming his girlfriend into the wall was something he'd always expected to see one day. Tony gave him a polite smile in return.

"Boss," he greeted. Gibbs didn't respond, so Tony turned his attention to Lola. "Hope you had a nice time, Lola."

"I did," she said. "It was a great party."

Tony opened his mouth to make a comment about Gibbs' world-renowned partying ways, but all he came out with was a slight yelp when Ziva dug her fingers into his side. Geez, how'd she know what he was going to say?

The elevator dinged on the third floor, and Lola put her hand on Ziva's arm.

"It was so lovely to meet you," she said, and then surprised Ziva by giving her a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"You too," Ziva returned politely.

Lola let go as the elevator doors opened and leaned over to Tony for another quick hug and kiss. "Tony."

"It was an absolute pleasure, Lola," he charmed. He looked over her head at Gibbs who sent him a steely-eyed warning in return. Tony decided to heed the warning and said nothing more as Lola and Gibbs stepped out of the lift.

"Night!" Ziva called out as the doors closed again.

Tony waited until the lift started rising again before turning to Ziva with barely restrained glee. "She's a kisser," he grinned, reveling in the juicy detail.

Ziva returned the smile. "She's a kisser," she confirmed.

"I don't think we have a kisser in our little gang."

"Abby's a kisser," she reminded him.

"Yeah," he conceded. "McGee might be a social kisser."

Ziva tugged the front of his shirt. "He kissed me tonight."

Tony frowned as he considered the information, and Ziva tapped her index finger against her cheek where McGee had given her a peck.

"Why'd he kiss you?"

She smiled coyly. "I was nice to him."

Tony rolled his eyes dismissively. "Pfft! Bet he's been looking for an excuse…"

Ziva took his jealousy about as seriously as he'd meant it. "Yes, he has probably just been biding his time."

The elevator dinged again and Tony took her hand as they stepped out on the fifth floor. Ziva leaned against him as they slowly strolled down to their room and Tony searched his pockets for their room key. He was searching his pants when Ziva reached inside his jacket and plucked out of his breast pocket. She held it up between her index and middle fingers, and Tony took it from her. He chose to ignore her smug smirk.

"Thank you."

"Welcome."

Tony held the door open for her and then followed her into the suite. He took off his jacket as he watched Ziva simultaneously step out of her shoes, hiss in relief and take out her earrings, and when that was done she dashed to the bathroom and slammed the door behind her. Tony chuckled and wandered over to the wardrobe to hang up his jacket, then returned to the entryway to pick up her stilettos and put them under a chair. He'd tripped over her shoes too many times in the last few months and he was determined to stop it before he broke his neck. Training himself to move them out of the way seemed easier than training her to stop putting them in his path.

He toed off his shoes and socks and slid them under the chair next to Ziva's, then bent to brush away a few more grains of sand that he'd missed after coming off the beach. He took off his watch, unbuttoned his cuffs and pulled his shirt out of his pants, and then looked between the bed and the closed bathroom door. Which held greater appeal right now? Sleeping or showering?

He'd stripped to his boxers but still hadn't made up his mind by the time Ziva emerged from the bathroom. She'd replaced her dress with a tank top, and when she headed straight for the bed Tony decided that soft, warm Ziva held far greater appeal than a warm shower. She collapsed onto the mattress on her back, and Tony went after her. He approached from the bottom left and then flopped down on his side, diagonally from her, with his head on her stomach. Ziva gave him a smile and reached down to stroke his hair before lifting one leg and flexing and pointing her foot.

"Stilettos should be outlawed," she declared.

He reached up to hold her other hand. "Stop your war on heels. It's getting old."

He scrunched her nose at him. "I had a talk with McGee," she said.

"Is that the talk where you were so nice that he kissed you?" Tony asked.

"Yes."

He kissed the back of her hand. "Cassie really likes him."

Ziva twisted her lips, and he knew that meant she had some thoughts on the matter. He raised his eyebrows, inviting her to share them, and Ziva gave a little shrug as she drew little circles against his scalp.

"I like her," Ziva started, and Tony immediately predicted that the statement would be followed by an insult. "But she is sort of…"

"What?" he pushed.

Another shrug. "Not Tim, exactly."

He assumed she meant that they were not well suited. Tony wasn't entirely sure they were either, but he didn't set them up because he thought they were soul mates. He set them up so that McGee would get past his Abby fixation. The fact that they'd seemed to hit it off as well as they had was a surprise, but a welcome one. And he found himself wanting to defend them. "Why not?"

"Because McGee is nice and sweet and…unmarred."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Unmarred?"

Ziva didn't meet his eyes as she nodded. "And Cassie is…"

"_Marred?_"

"Yes." She at least had the grace to look contrite over her position, but Tony wasn't going to let her off the hook.

"Are you trying to politely say that she sleeps around?"

Ziva wagged her finger at him. "I do not judge people for that," she said firmly. "I have done my share of sleeping around, and—"

"I'm not ready for that conversation," he cut in quickly, squeezing his eyes shut against the thought of all the men who came before him.

But Ziva didn't understand what he was talking about. "What conversation?" she frowned.

He glanced up at her uncomfortably. "The _numbers_ conversation."

"Numbers?"

God, he hated it when she got unintentionally vague about relationship stuff and made him spell things out. "How many people we've slept with."

She started to smile, and his stomach dropped with the thought of what _that_ could mean. "Why would you want to know that?" she asked.

"I don't," he said firmly. "Not right now."

Ziva's smile grew as she gently teased him. "Is that because you are intimidated?"

Instead of admitting that yes, intimidation played a part along with pride and a caveman-like feeling of possession, he looked at her sternly and shook his head. "Not. Having. This conversation."

Ziva shrugged and twisted a lock of his hair around her finger like she wasn't even _slightly_ bothered by what he'd gotten up to before this relationship. "I don't care how many people you've slept with."

Tony felt slightly offended by that but didn't want to consider why. He wanted to move the conversation off this topic. "Even if Cass does sleep around, that doesn't mean she can't settle down and commit. People change."

Her finger stopped twisting in his hair, and as vague as she'd been a moment ago, she now seemed to understand that his comment hadn't just been directed at Cassie. He smiled to assure her that he considered himself a reformed philanderer, and expected Ziva to bestow a melty, loving smile on him in return. Instead, she just cocked her head to the side and looked at him like she'd just been hit with a lightning bolt of awareness.

"You slept with her."

Tony's smile fell. "A long time ago," he admitted. "Like, a _long_ time."

She regarded him for a moment, and then her fingers started moving in his hair again just as gently as before. "Hmm."

Tony couldn't read that response. She'd just said that she didn't care that he'd slept around, and she wasn't a jealous kind of girlfriend. What did _'hmm'_ mean? "What?"

The hint of her smile was back. "I thought Mossad was bad for intra-agency screwing around."

He didn't doubt it, but chose not to dwell on what that meant for his ex-Mossad girlfriend. He turned his head to kiss her stomach and squeezed her hand. "You know, most people meet their spouse, girlfriend, boyfriend, long-term-significant-relationship-type-person at work."

Ziva's smile came at him full force. "Long-term-significant-relationship-type-person?" she repeated. "I have not seen that check box before. Married, single, de facto…"

"It's there," he joked, winking and nodding knowingly.

"Did Ducky tell you that?"

"No. I know stuff about stuff."

"Encyclopedia Britannica newsletter?" she guessed, and he chuckled. "Is that just in workplaces where you work 15 hours a day, seven days a week?"

"No," he said. "All workplaces. Even the ones where there's actually enough time left in the day after clocking off to see and form relationships with people you _don't_ work with."

Ziva feigned shock. "I did not know such workplaces existed."

"They do. Ducky told me."

She smiled. "Are you saying you're only with me because you don't have enough time to form a long-term-significant-relationship-type thing outside of work?"

She was clearly joking, and he responded in kind. "Yes."

"Well, at least you are honest," she replied, tugging his hair just the tiniest bit.

"I try to be."

Ziva trailed her fingertips over his brow and looked at him fondly. "You set them up, didn't you?"

"Who?"

"McGee and Cassie."

He couldn't quite keep his smirk in check. "I might've suggested something to someone."

Ziva gave him the melty smile he was expecting moments ago. "You are a good man, Tony," she told him.

Tony already guessed that she thought that. After all, she'd entered into a healthy, adult relationship with him of her own free will. He was pretty confident that she didn't think he was an asshole. And yet the unexpected pride and admiration in her voice almost brought him to tears. He didn't think he'd ever understand why setting McGee up with a woman she'd come close to calling a slut five minutes ago made her so pleased with him, but it was just another one of those things that Tony wouldn't bother to dissect. Ziva was proud of him, and if that was all he managed to accomplish on a semi-regular basis for the rest of his days, then he'd be a happy man.

He lifted her hand again to press a lingering kiss to her knuckles, telling her he appreciated the sentiment…before turning to self-deprecation. "Sometimes."

Ziva frowned and tried to swipe his chin with her fingers in objection. She missed, but didn't make a second attempt. "He likes her."

"Hmm?"

"McGee likes her," Ziva said, bringing the conversation back around to its starting point.

"Good."

She tapped his head with her index finger. "He mentioned to me that you told him it was never going to happen between him and Abby."

"I didn't say it like _that_," Tony defended. "I was very delicate and discreet."

She didn't look like she believed him, but obviously wasn't interested in that argument. "I very delicately and discreetly told him the same thing."

"Did he punch you?" Tony asked. "Or perhaps empty the contents of his stomach at your feet?"

She shook her head. "No. He agreed."

Tony sighed with a sense of relief. "Well, I think that might be what they call progress, Sweetcheeks."

"Mmm, progress," she murmured, as her thoughts wandered elsewhere. "What did you think of Lola?"

He smiled broadly. Screw McGee and Cassie, and who cared about Jimmy and Breena? Gibbs' relationship was the one Tony had been the most interested in today. Partly because he had a feeling Gibbs would make good on his promise to give him and Ziva crap until their grandkids were in college. Any embarrassing facts Tony could find on Gibbs to hang over his head would be worth digging for.

"She is a really, really nice lady," he said. "Really hot, and a great sense of humor. But I don't have a _clue_ what she's doing with Gibbs." His honesty earned him a chiding pinch on his ear from his darling girlfriend, and he yelped. "Hey! I just mean that I don't see what they've got in common! She's this spunky music chic and he's…Gibbs. Where's the common thread?"

"I don't know," Ziva replied. "But Lola is very, very keen on this relationship."

"Keen like she's going to boil some bunnies?"

"No," Ziva answered, rolling her eyes just a little, before she suddenly propped herself up on one of her elbows and smiled. "Oh! I had to tell you. She talked to me about what Gibbs says about us behind out backs!"

"Did she say if he's worked out that I'm actually Batman yet?"

"No, I think your secret identity is still safe."

"Good. Then what did he say?"

The corner of her mouth slowly curled up and her face softened. "In a nutshell? He loves us all more than life itself."

Tony frowned with skepticism. "You lie."

"It is what Lola told me!" Ziva argued. "She also told me that he talks about how proud he is of you."

He held her gaze for a moment as he automatically searched for signs of ridicule, but his suspicion fell away almost as soon as it had risen. There was no way Ziva would make that up just to make fun of him or, conversely, to give him an ego boost he didn't need. But would Lola make it up? Tony couldn't think of what she'd have to gain from that. So maybe Gibbs really had said he was proud of him. He knew that deep down Gibbs thought he was a good agent, and there had been times when he'd acted more like a father than a boss. Hell, Tony certainly looked up to him more than he did to Tony Sr. So maybe the sentiment wasn't too hard to believe. The fact that he'd utter the words aloud to another person, though? That was the questionable part.

Ziva raised her eyebrows at his silence. "You don't think Gibbs is proud of you?"

"Yeah," he said at length. "I just wouldn't expect him to mention it to anybody."

"Lola isn't just anybody," Ziva pointed out. "It is not just her who is keen on the relationship. Gibbs is just as happy."

He gave her a quizzical look. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"He likes her a lot," Ziva explained. "He trusts her. He is comfortable with her. So he probably tells her things he would not consider telling others."

"Like when I told you I'm Batman?" he had to joke.

Ziva gestured between them. "We are in the, uh, cone of silence, yes?" she said, looking for the correct analogy. "We discuss things between us that we would not discuss with other people. It would be the same for Gibbs with Lola."

"Yeah, I guess," he conceded. "Well that's…nice of him."

Ziva rolled her eyes. "And people accuse _me_ of not being emotional enough."

He gave her a soft smile. The thing was, he _did_ feel emotional about it. He'd spent most of the last ten years trying to please the man, after all. But the news didn't have the same ego-boosting effect that it would have five years ago. These days he felt much more relaxed and confident in his special agent skin, and he felt like he'd been able to step out from Gibbs' shadow and become his own man. So although he was definitely pleased and touched by the information, he wasn't going to live and die by it as he once would have.

He pushed himself up and reoriented himself on the mattress so he was lying beside her on his back, and then reached over to take her hand. He tugged her towards him gently. "Come here."

Ziva rolled towards him, but instead of snuggling into his side she got to her knees and then swung a leg over his hips. She leaned over him on her hands and knees just long enough to kiss him before she sat back on his thighs, and then stroked her fingertips down his chest. Tony ran his hands over her hips while he laid back and just watched her quietly, and he felt a smile stretch his lips. In the last few months he'd really grown to like these moments. There was something about coming home after a day at the office or a night out and having someone to talk over the details with. It made him happy, plain and simple. Maybe it was a little gossipy of him, but he could get away with it with Ziva. Like she'd said just moments ago, she was his cone of silence.

He stroked his hands up and down her thighs, drawing a smile out of her, and his thoughts drifted back to the vows Jimmy had ended up making. They were different to the ones that'd come pouring out of Tony's mouth all those weeks ago but had retained the general theme. He hadn't expected to tense up as much as he had during the wedding, although he'd certainly been nervous about what Jimmy would say. Why? Tony couldn't be sure. It wasn't like he thought the guy was going to start the vows with, _"And here are some words that Tony DiNozzo came up with in reference to his girlfriend that I'm going to steal."_ Maybe he thought Jimmy or McGee would spill the details of their conversation over lunch to Ziva, and was worried about how she'd take it. But now, on the other side of it all, he really couldn't work out what the big deal was.

They'd talked about marriage a while ago and had come to the vague agreement that it wasn't really something they felt the need to do. He still felt that way, but there was a side of him emerging that wanted to make those promises to her. That wanted her to know that he was completely committed to their two-person team and would always have her six. That was actually feeling kind of disappointed now that she _hadn't_ worked out that she'd been in his thoughts when he'd helped come up with those vows. He had the urge to tell her these things now, but could he really get away with it when he hadn't even told her he loved her yet?

Ziva's fingertips trailed up his chest again and traveled over his face until she pressed them into his forehead.

"You have that look on your face," she said softly.

He pulled himself out of his deep thought daze and ran his hands up her sides, pushing her tank top out of the way. "What look?"

"The one you get when you're having serious thoughts that you're not sure you should be having."

The corner of his mouth curled up. "I have a face for that? Must be quite a face."

She traced her fingertips down and across his cheekbone, smiling fondly. "I like the face."

He gazed up at her as he contemplated blurting out an _I love you_, but the words got stuck in his throat. He covered with a smile and changed the subject.

"Wedding debrief," he said. "Overall, what rating do you give it?"

Her eyes slid from his as she considered the question. "Out of ten?"

He shrugged. "Yeah, sure."

"Seven?" she tried. "Isn't it rather rude to rate a wedding?"

"Not in the cone of silence," he said. "I can be as rude and inappropriate as I want when it's just you and me."

"I see," she said, humoring him.

"Did you like Jimmy's song?" he asked. Jimmy had decided to go ahead with singing at the reception, and had strummed a ukulele while crooning an über-cute song Tony knew but couldn't place.

Ziva let out a deep, throaty chuckle. "It was ridiculously sappy, but…adorable," she decided. "Very Jimmy."

He plucked at the hem of her tank top and raised a challenging eyebrow at her. "You got slightly emotional," he accused gently. "I saw those eyes of yours misting up."

"Yes," she mumbled, avoiding his eyes to watch her fingertips trace a path across his collarbones. "But so did you."

The woman spoke the truth. "I was trying to show you my sensitive side," he defended. "What did you think of Breena's song?"

Ziva chuckled again, this time with far more amusement than fondness. "It was the most stirring rendition of a _Backstreet Boys_ song I have heard for some time."

Tony laughed with her. "She's a karaoke queen."

"Not as romantic as Jimmy's song."

"Perhaps not," he agreed. "Did you expect Jimmy to cry as much during the ceremony as he did?"

She smiled. "Yes."

"Did you think he was being a great big girl about it?"

"Tony, no!" she admonished. "He was excited and he was happy, and I don't blame him at all."

Neither did Tony. He hadn't seen a smile that big and genuine since he looked in the rear vision mirror while sitting behind the wheel of his first Mustang.

"What did you think of the best man's speech?" he asked, settling into the pattern of peppering her with questions to pick her brain. It wasn't exactly necessary. Compared with the woman she'd been six years ago his girlfriend/partner/significant-relationship-type-person shared her private thoughts like a drunken sorority girl on Twitter. But if he set up a rhythm that got her answering freely without stopping to think, he might be able to sneak in a more serious question or two without alarming her.

Oblivious to his plotting, Ziva shook her head and answered his question. "I do not believe that Jimmy Palmer did half of the things he suggested."

"Really? I believe it. Jimmy's strange enough to have a double life," Tony reasoned.

Ziva tilted her head. "Was the best man the one who got McGee into the fight at the bachelor party?"

"McGee got himself into that fight," Tony said firmly, ignoring the Gibbs-ish tone that suddenly crept into his voice. "But the best man helped. He didn't punch me, though. That was all McGee."

The corner of Ziva's mouth twitched in a restrained smirk before she leaned over him to press a kiss into the hollow of his throat, and then another against his lips. "He did not mean to hurt you."

Tony couldn't help but think that the kisses were somewhat pitying, but he wasn't going to argue. "What did you think of Breena's promise to put up with Jimmy's inappropriate anatomy talk?"

"It was very thoughtful of her," Ziva said, and drew her fingertips down the inside of his hipbones. Tony jumped at the tickle heading south and she shot him a teasing smile, but he stuck to his questioning.

"What did you think of Ducky continuing to chase Aunt Molly?"

Ziva lifted an eyebrow. "She seems to interest him quite a bit. It will be interesting to watch where it goes."

He ran his hands down her thighs again. "Were you aware of how beautiful you looked tonight?"

Ziva chuckled and dipped her head, and her hair fell around her face. "No."

He reached up to push her curls back behind her ear. "You were stunning."

She leant down for another kiss. "Thank you."

"Do you think they're going to make it?"

"I hope so," Ziva replied as she drew her fingertips across his chest. "They seem very well suited to each other." She paused to meet his gaze. "The rest is just hard work."

He got the feeling she wasn't just talking about Jimmy and Breena, and wondered if Ziva had been struck with the same kind of deep thoughts that he'd been having. She was giving him that look that made his chest warm and provoked thoughts of a little girl with dark curls offering him a rose petal. If he wanted to start asking her some serious questions, that look told him that she would most likely answer them.

"So, what did you think of Jimmy's vows?" he asked, starting with the topic that had been playing with his nerves for weeks.

Ziva smiled softly, but without awareness of their relation to her. "They were beautiful. You helped him with those?"

"Yes."

"They were beautiful," she repeated.

Tony swallowed as his nerves fired up again, but this time he didn't let them interfere. "They were heartfelt."

He held her gaze, willing her to understand. He knew the moment she did when her hands stopped their exploration of his chest and came to rest lightly against his ribs, and her head barely cocked to the side. He gave her a brief, one-sided smile of confirmation, and then he watched as her eyes filled at the revelation. He took a hand off her thigh to cover hers, and Ziva threaded her fingers through his as she continued to stare at him.

"Do you think Jimmy meant them?" he asked. Of course he wasn't really talking about Jimmy. But they'd used the groom and his bride as surrogates when they'd discussed marriage, and having that little bit of distance had allowed them to be much braver with their honestly. Tony thought they'd probably need more of that bravery now.

Ziva broke his gaze for a few moments to look at their hands, and it seemed to Tony that she was really weighing the question up. Just as he started to panic that she really didn't have a clue how he felt about her, she met his eyes again and nodded.

"Yes," she said thickly. "But Breena might find it difficult sometimes to understand why he feels that way."

Tony frowned. "You don't think she gets it?"

Ziva looked away from him again, and as she blinked a tear spilled onto her cheek. She swallowed hard, and her eyes took a long journey across the bed and up his chest as she replied. "I think she really wants to," she told him. "But she's probably not used to people meaning those things when they say them to her. Or not having an agenda behind them."

"Ziva," he broke in, all ready to drop the Jimmy and Breena distance and set her straight. But she cut him off.

"I know that she has a lot of faith in him, though," she said, meeting his eyes again. "I know she trusts him."

He let out a relived sigh. "Good. Because I firmly believe that he can be trusted on this." He waited until she smiled before asking another question. "Do you think she minded that Jimmy got all mushy on her?"

Ziva breathed out a laugh. "No. I think she's always known that beneath his hard candy layer he's 70 per cent cocoa, but she was able to overlook that and commit to him anyway."

Tony grinned at her use of his dumb analogy from earlier in the night. "Do you think she'll ever be able to say mushy things back to him?"

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "She _does_ say mushy things," she argued.

"Not as much as him," he argued back, but he smiled the whole time to assure her he was teasing. "Do you think she's worried that he won't like her being mushy?"

Ziva shrugged a _yes_. "Most likely. It is not exactly her style, and she might worry that he will think she is being insincere."

Tony shook his head. "He's not going to think that. He knows her pretty well, and he knows when she's being honest, and when she's just telling him what he wants to hear."

Ziva twisted her lips as she weighed that up and then gave him a little nod. "Well then, she might be a little mushier in the future."

He gave her an encouraging wink, and Ziva's free hand continued its path across his belly. Clearly she thought the conversation was over, but Tony wasn't done. There was still a big and important thing he had to say to her, if he could just get the words to leave his throat. He didn't know why this was so hard. He wanted to say it to her. He wanted her to know. He sincerely doubted it would come as a surprise to her or make her run for the door. But still, there was something in him that was desperately concerned with self-preservation. Something that refused to be the one to say _it_ first, just in case the sentiment wasn't returned. And so, he kept up their charade of distance.

"Do you think," he started, but had to stop to clear his throat. "Do you think she knows that he's pretty deeply in love with her?"

Ziva's fingertips stalled on their path again, and more tears appeared on her cheeks. She didn't look at him when she replied, "She probably hopes he is."

The connotation behind her response made his heart hammer against his ribs and his throat constrict with his own tears. It was time to drop the Jimmy and Breena pretense and bring it back to Tony and Ziva. But, coward that he was, he forced her into it first.

"Do you love me, Ziva?" he pushed out. His voice had dropped a few octaves and trembled slightly with emotion. But he didn't want to call _cut_ and try the line again. If he did that, he risked missing her response.

Ziva went completely still and fixed her eyes on a spot on his left shoulder. She was quiet for long enough to make Tony panic that he'd just screwed up their entire relationship, and he started to worry that she was considering the best way to kill him for demanding an answer when he hadn't shown himself to be brave enough to step out from Jimmy's shadow to tell her plainly how _he_ felt. But then she took a breath and looked him in the eye, and Tony felt a stab of hope cut through him.

"Yes," she replied, holding his gaze unflinchingly as another tear spilled down her cheek. "Very much."

He felt the smile spread over his face as happiness and relief slammed into him full force. It weakened his limbs as the feeling spread through him, and a moment later he was hit with an epiphany. _This is what life is all about. This feeling. This gives purpose to everything else. _

He swallowed the lump that had lodged in his throat and took both her hands to pull her towards him. "Come here."

Ziva shifted to lie on top of him, but when he went to kiss her she pulled her head back and looked down at him with a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. "Do you love me?" she turned back on him.

"God, yes," he sighed, taking her face between his hands. "More than anything."

The smile that lit her face made him happy to his bones, and he lifted his head to capture her lips for a long, deep, worshipping kiss. His chest ached with warmth and tingles spread through every nerve as he gave himself over to it and, God, he was so happy in that moment that his eyes pricked with tears.

Ziva moaned into his mouth, and Tony decided that he had to get closer to her. His hands found the hem of her tank top and he peeled it up and off her. Then he rolled them so that she was underneath him and settled his hips between her thighs. He broke the kiss to gaze down at her as she curled her leg around his.

"So, we'll keep going on this relationship thing for a little while longer?" he asked, playing casual after all the heaviness to make her laugh.

Ziva chuckled. "Suits me," she said, and reached down to the waistband of his boxers.

He smiled brushed his lips against hers. "Me too."

* * *

**Okay, almost there. Just a prologue to go to tie up one more thing and then we're done. **


	18. Part 18: The Epilogue

**A/N: Well, we're finally here. Thanks to everyone who reviewed, favorited, alerted and read along. I hope you enjoy the final installment.  
Disclaimer: Disclaimed.**

* * *

**Part 18: The ****Epilogue**

_Six months later_

They'd had plans for McGee's birthday. Proper plans that involved tickets to a seminar by some big wig poet (if such a thing existed) who only McGee and Cassie had heard of and were excited to see (there was a reason those two had ended up as two close peas in a pod). Tony had been looking forward to the night like he did to root canal surgery, but he, Ziva and Abby were bound by the laws of friendship to just shut up and go along with it.

As it turned out, they didn't make it to the seminar. A dead sailor had thrown a spanner (actually, a .45 caliber bullet) in the works, and as the seminar began Team Gibbs was crowded around a plasma screen looking at a driver's license, credit card statements and phone records of the sailor's not-so-grieving widow. Gibbs had shown them mercy when the clock hit 2100 and sent them home with instructions to return by 0700. McGee had started making 'see you tomorrow' noises when Cassie appeared and shot down his attempts at having a quiet night. She'd insisted that the cancellation of a seminar shouldn't mean the cancellation of birthday celebrations altogether, and then named a bar downtown that they should all be at in 30 minutes…or else.

They'd been at that bar for an hour now, drinking to relax and toast the McBirthday instead of to get drunk and disorderly. But even two drinks on an empty stomach at that time of night had the potential to turn merry into messy. Ziva wasn't keen on the thought of dragging a drunk and heavy Tony up to her apartment later any more than she wanted to go to work tomorrow with a hangover. It was time to get some food into their stomachs.

"Who would like a very nutritious plate of nachos for dinner?" she asked.

Abby's hand shot up. "Me! I do! They do this really great version here with organic tortillas and kidney beans and this gourmet vegan cheese. It's so delicious."

Ziva glanced at Tony and saw his face fall. She squeezed his knee reassuringly. "I believe they also do a version that is three-quarters meat and dripping with regular cheese, salsa, sour cream, guacamole and perhaps even bacon bits."

His eyes lit up again. "Can you please get me that kind?"

"Of course."

"And me," McGee said, raising two fingers.

"McGee," Abby started to admonish. "I thought you were trying to give up meat."

"Cut down," McGee corrected. "Not give up. And it's my birthday so I can have whatever I want."

Abby looked like she was going to argue the point, so Ziva distracted her by standing up and touching her shoulder. "Abby, come with me?"

"Oh, sure."

"Cassie? You'll have the meat," Ziva guessed.

Cassie winked and tipped her glass towards her. "The meatier the better."

Ziva grabbed Abby's arm and turned her around before Cassie or McGee could see her wrinkled nose, and then nudged her towards the bar. They were three tables away before Abby made a comment.

"I know you and Tony get cranky when I say anything about her, but I really think her bad habits are rubbing off on him," she threw over her shoulder.

Ziva sighed quietly and put her hand on the back of Abby's shoulder. "It is only one meal, Abby," she said evenly.

"And she could do well to cut back too," Abby went on, wagging a lecturing finger. "She eats almost as much as Tony and Gibbs, and you know Ducky's always telling them to cut back." She stopped between two tables to twirl and face Ziva. "Are you really going to order bacon for him?"

Ziva shrugged a yes. "Few things make him as happy as bacon."

Abby sighed and turned around again. "Cute little baby piglets should make him happier," she replied, but Ziva had tuned her out.

She was making a visual sweep of the room, checking the shadows and corners for trouble like she always did, when her eyes fell on a woman at the back of the room. Ziva's skin prickled as she tried to place the face, and when she did her fists clenched and her heartbeat rocketed up. The woman sitting at the table no more than 20 feet from Tony was goddamn Jill Montgomery.

She looked better than she had in her beaten down driver's license photo. She'd clearly started taking better care of herself, and she'd gained some much-needed fullness to her face that made her look less desperate and pained. She was wearing good quality, tailored clothes and she'd put effort into her hair and make up. But the harshness of prison life still stuck to her eyes and rounded shoulders. Her smile that she was aiming at her friend wasn't as bright as it should have been, and there was a skittishness about her as she sat in a bar crammed with strangers.

The other thing Ziva noticed was where Jill's attention was. While she was listening to her friend talk and nodding and laughing, her eyes kept wandering past her friend's right shoulder. Ziva would bet everything she had that she knew what Jill was looking at.

"What's wrong?" Abby asked, having backtracked when she realized Ziva wasn't behind her anymore. "You've got that look on your face."

"What look?" Ziva asked, not taking her eyes off the table as Jill's friend's cell phone rang.

"The look you get when you're trying to remember that you're not an assassin anymore."

Ziva pursed her lips and grunted in response. Abby was so close to the mark and she didn't even know it. Her adrenaline was surging through her now as she weighed up her options. She wanted to go over there and punch her in her face, at a bare minimum. But she had promised Tony several times that she wouldn't go after the woman who'd been responsible for him being beaten beyond recognition. He'd made it clear over and over that he didn't want her to get involved or track Jill down. But what if Jill just happened to fall into their laps?

Beside her, Abby had followed her gaze and was now staring at the woman that they were both so keen to sink their claws into—literally. "Oh, my God," she breathed. "Is that who I think it is?"

Ziva swallowed hard to make sure her voice was even. "Yes. I believe so."

"Ziva, she keeps looking at Tony," Abby said, anger creeping into her tone. "She knows he's here."

"I know."

"Well, what are we going to do?"

The question hung in the air as Ziva debated the intelligence of doing what she was leaning towards doing. She understood where Tony was coming from, but they'd had these conversations before Jill was literally sitting right in front of them. Ziva had been angry enough when she'd found out that Jill had moved from Philadelphia to a place 20 minutes from Tony's apartment. She'd been livid when she found out she had a job just four blocks from his place. And when the thought occurred to her that there was a good chance they might actually run into each other at the grocery store between her work and his house, she'd been infuriated. Now that they were at the same bar, Ziva wouldn't be surprised if Abby told her there was steam coming out of her ears. The woman was getting _way_ too close, and Ziva was not going to allow her to get any closer.

She watched Jill's friend slide off her stool and gesture at the phone held up to her ear, and then out the door. Jill nodded and smiled, and as soon as her friend's back was turned, Jill's eyes immediately went to Tony. She had a look on her face like she was trying to make a decision, and that was the face that ended up making up Ziva's mind. She brushed past Abby and strode over to Jill's table wearing her hardest, scariest expression.

Ziva watched with sadistic glee the expression of shock that crossed Jill's face when she slid onto the vacant stool at the table. A moment later the shock turned to recognition, and then fear. Ziva abused the power for all it was worth.

"Oh, look!" she said to Abby, who was hovering by her right shoulder. "She seems to know me, and that is _not_ good news for her. Do you know why? Because it means that she has been watching people who she should not have been. What is that saying? Caught with your hand in the honey pot?"

"Cookie jar," Abby corrected, and despite the actual words, Ziva didn't think she'd ever heard her friend's tone so intimidating.

Jill shrank back from them as tears appeared in her eyes. "Look, I was just here with my friend when I noticed him," she said. "It's a coincidence. I didn't follow him here."

"Well, that is good news," Ziva said, leaning over the table and slowly sliding her hand towards Jill's discarded dinner fork. "But you have this look on your face, Jill, that suggests to me that you are thinking about going over to my partner and having a chat with him. And I have to say that I think that would be a _very_ bad idea."

"Because we'll mess you up," Abby shot in. "Well, mostly she will, but I'll totally go Momma Bear if I have to. Or Little Sister Bear. Actually, I'm more of a terrier dog. Usually placid but totally vicious when—"

"Abby," Ziva said sharply, shutting her friend up before she completely ruined the fear that she could see growing in Jill's face. She picked up the fork and twirled it between her fingertips before pointing it at Jill. "I don't want to make threats here," she lied. "I left job as an assassin for the Mossad behind. But if there is something that will make me return to my kill-without-conscience roots, it is seeing you go anywhere near that man you have been staring at all night." She leaned even closer and affected the voice that she knew made even Gibbs a little uncomfortable. "In fact, I would probably make more than threats. I would probably take this fork and plunge it deeply into the side of your neck."

Jill looked between the fork and Ziva's creepy smile, and then swallowed hard. Ziva was sure she believed her. Finally Jill's eyes dropped and she crossed her arms tightly around herself. "I don't want to cause him trouble," she said weakly. "I just want to go and tell him that I'm sorry. The protection order has expired, so technically—"

"Technically nothing," Abby cut in. "Aren't you listening to her? You're not going to go near him. Not tonight, not ever."

Jill looked between them and Ziva didn't like what she saw in her face. She was going to put up a fight. Her eyes left them to look over at Tony again, and Ziva purposely moved herself so that she blocked Jill's view.

"I think you should leave," Ziva told her firmly. "And I think if you ever run into him again, you should walk the other way. Because if you don't?" She paused to twirl to fork and draw Jill's attention back. "The things I will do to you will make his injuries look like a paper cut. Do you understand me?"

Jill watched to fork, bit her lip and then nodded as a tear spilled down her cheek.

Ziva had no mercy. "Do not test me on this," she warned.

"Okay," Jill said softly.

Ziva nodded and dropped the fork against Jill's empty plate with a loud clang. She shot her a sweet smile as she slid off the stool. "Great. Have a nice evening."

Her heart was hammering in her chest as she and Abby turned to walk away. The effort of keeping control, of stopping herself from leaning over and really jamming the fork into the woman's hand, was beginning to make her shake. But she would have to calm down before she returned to their table.

"I really did love him, you know."

Ziva's head snapped around to look back at Jill. She was looking at Ziva with regret and sadness that Ziva truly understood, but if she was looking for sympathy, she was pleading with the wrong ex-assassin.

"Things got out of control really fast, and my brother went way overboard when he saw I was hurt. But I didn't want…" She broke off to swallow tears and then tried again. "I really wanted to fix things. I loved him so much. I wanted to marry him."

Ziva ignored the irrational stab of jealousy she felt and gave her a hard look. "Well, you screwed up." She turned her back and nudged Abby, and the two of them left Jill alone at the table with her regrets.

One look at Tony when she returned to their table sent a stab of protectiveness through Ziva's body that almost dropped her with its strength. She resisted the urge to sit on his lap, pull out her gun and aim it at Jill, and instead just touched his cheek gently and gave him a brief kiss.

"Hey! Did you order me the nachos with bacon?" Tony asked.

She smiled at him. "Of course."

He smiled back, but then looked at her like he knew something was up and he was trying to work out what it was. He glanced at the others to make sure no one was paying attention to them before sliding his arm around her shoulders and pulling her a little closer. "You okay?"

Ziva nodded and gave him another quick kiss. She didn't want to tell him what had happened yet. Not until they were at home. "I'm great."

He didn't look convinced, but he let go of the conversation with little more than a look that promised he'd ask her again later. But two minutes later, he worked it out for himself. In the middle of Cassie's story about her apprehension of a grabby 20-year-old kid the day before, Jill walked right past their table and stared straight at Tony. Ziva felt his entire body stiffen and his mood switch from light to dark, and if they weren't in public with a hundred witnesses, she would have vaulted the table and thrown Jill through the plate glass window behind her.

She dropped her hand from the table to rest on Tony's thigh as he and Jill stared at each other. She didn't know if she was supporting him, stopping him from getting up and punching the woman himself, or giving herself an anchor to keep her in her chair. She thought a combination of all three was likely.

Jill's eyes briefly flicked to Ziva before returning to the man whose jaw was so tight he was in danger of cracking teeth. "I'm really sorry, Tony," she said softly.

Her friend from before seemed irritated that Jill hadn't kept her mouth shut, and Ziva had to wonder how much she knew. She grabbed Jill's elbow and pulled her towards the door. "Jill, let's go," she said through gritted teeth. "Don't do this."

Tony didn't say a word as she left the bar. As soon as she was out of sight, Ziva looked up at him and tried to gauge how he was going to deal with this. Although he'd been calm enough all those months ago when he'd told her what happened in Philly, there was a difference between telling the story and coming face-to-face with the villain. His jaw was still tight and he looked a little rattled, but more than anything he looked surprised. Cops didn't like surprises, and Ziva kicked herself for not remembering that earlier. She realized she should have told him she'd seen Jill as soon as she'd returned to the table.

"What's going on?" McGee asked. "Who was that?"

"No one important," Abby replied dismissively, before turning to Cassie. "So, what were you saying about that suspect who tried to grab your butt?"

Cassie resumed her story, but neither Ziva nor Tony were listening. She was still watching him worriedly half a minute later when Tony finally tore his eyes from the front door of the bar and looked at her. Ziva gave him an apologetic look, but he shook his head and dropped his hand to his thigh to thread his fingers with hers. Ziva held his hand tightly as she arched an eyebrow, asking if he was all right, and Tony let out a long breath before he gave her a nod. They'd talk it over tonight when they got home, but for now he was okay.

Still, he didn't let go of her hand for the rest of the night.

* * *

A little over an hour later, Tony stood behind Ziva in her bathroom as she took off her make up. The encounter with Jill had left him feeling antsy and generally oogie, and while he didn't have the gut feeling that she was going to try to see him again, there was a big chunk of him that was worried about Ziva being involved.

He wasn't stupid. When she'd returned to the table after ordering their food she was clearly (to him) shaken about something. Seeing Jill walk past just minutes later had saved him from having to grill Ziva later about what had bothered her. But he could tell that wasn't all of it. While he believed that even just seeing Jill nearby would have put his partner in a foul mood, there was something else going on. He could see it in her face. There was something there under the surface that she hadn't told him yet, and Tony reckoned he had a pretty good idea of what it was.

"So, what did you say to her?" he asked.

Ziva looked at him in the mirror, and she pursed her lips in that way she did when he knew she was weighing up how much to tell him. He cocked his head to the side, his expression telling her that she better not deny it, and Ziva sighed in defeat. "I just told her that it would be a very bad idea to approach you, and that she should leave and never go near you again."

Her succinct recap had him eyeing her with suspicion. "Is that all?"

Her eyes flicked to his in the mirror and he read the _no_ in her eyes. "I am paraphrasing."

"Did she even know I was there before you—"

"She was staring at you, Tony," Ziva cut in, raising her chin defiantly. "She knew. That is why I approached her, and I am not going to apologize for it."

Tony shook his head and pushed off the doorframe to go and stand behind her. He pressed his chest to her back as he put his arms around her and kissed her temple. "I'm not asking you to," he told her without a hint of a fight in his voice. "I just wanted to know how it happened."

Ziva nodded and reached for her moisturizer. "I also may have threatened her with a fork," she mumbled.

He should have been annoyed that she'd poured fuel onto what had been little more than smoking embers, but it was such a Ziva thing to do that Tony had to drop his face to her shoulder and laugh. "A fork?"

"It was that or a spoon," Ziva explained. "I think she had risotto for dinner, so there was no knife."

He chuckled again and kissed her neck. "Thank you."

"I have your back."

He knew she did. And honestly, he couldn't blame her for tonight. If he put himself in her shoes and had seen an ex of Ziva's who had beaten her up and wasn't supposed to come near her, it would have taken everyone in the bar to pull him off the guy before he ripped his head off with his bare hands. And yeah, even if Ziva had told him to stay away from the guy, Tony knew he would have gone after him anyway. He couldn't begrudge Ziva for taking a shot when the target was right in front of her.

As Ziva continued with her routine, Tony brushed his lips back and forth across the back of her shoulder and thought about Jill. He'd recognized her right away, but at the same time she'd looked so different. She was older, of course. But she carried herself differently. Once, she'd carried herself with confidence. She'd swung her hips and stomped like a catwalk model. Tonight she'd seemed to curl in on herself. Once, there had always been a smile lighting up her stunning face, but tonight she'd looked grey and drawn. Once, she'd been the centre of the party, but tonight she'd looked like too much attention would make her run.

"Are you all right?"

He lifted his eyes to meet Ziva's in the mirror. "She looked sad."

Ziva watched him quietly for a moment, trying to read his mood. "It is not your fault, Tony," she said gently. "Don't feel guilty."

He shook his head. "I don't."

She didn't look convinced. "You are not to blame. Stop punishing yourself with _what ifs_."

"That's not what I'm doing," he said. "I'm just thinking."

"Well, don't do that either," she said with a smirk."

He smiled back at her, but now that she'd brought it up his head started filling with _what ifs_. What if his fights with Jill hadn't gotten so out of hand? What if they'd both held their tongues and calmed down? Would they have stayed together? He didn't want to marry her then, but maybe if they'd given it another shot he would have decided to go through with it. Then they would have stayed in Philadelphia, he would've stayed a cop, he'd probably have kids by now and…

He sighed and kissed the back of Ziva's shoulder. No, he never would have gone through with it. He knew back then, back before things got out of control, back before Jill started talking about marriage, that she wasn't a long-term partner. He'd had strong feelings for her, but it had always been clear to him that the relationship was going to end. He didn't want to give up his lifestyle for her. He didn't want to change and make room for her and her needs. He never thought about what their kids would look like, or considered what they'd be doing in ten, fifteen, twenty years' time.

But with Ziva, he remembered the exact moment he started thinking about all that. He'd had hopes and made assumptions throughout almost all of their partnership, but there was one moment when it all changed. One moment where he knew for sure that in ten years' time they'd be watching their kids' school plays. It was the moment almost two years ago when she stood in his kitchen and ate peanut butter straight from the jar, and casually mentioned that she was _thinking_ about quitting Mossad and applying for US citizenship. The official decision to do it hadn't come until months later after her father and his henchmen had spooked the crap out of her and spurred her into action, but on that night when she first floated the idea with him, he knew his future was sewn up. Call him cocky, but he didn't have a single doubt that he'd be able to convince her to do it. Sure, he had plenty of doubts about whether Uncle Sam would actually welcome her into the family, but he didn't doubt that they were going to commit to each other.

In that moment, when she'd resumed licking peanut butter off her spoon as she watched him with curious eyes, Tony had visions of kids with dark curls playing basketball and dancing. Of houses full of kindergarteners' drawings and family photos. He thought of Ziva still being beside him when he was 70 and still arguing with him about her driving. And it all just felt…right.

At the time, getting her citizenship sorted out seemed like the big bad that they needed to defeat to make all those visions become a reality. It had certainly helped their situation, but since then they'd been standing still. They'd been spending all their time getting comfortable with the new rules and boundaries of their relationship and, to be frank, Tony hadn't enjoyed his life this much since, well, ever. A little more time in this stage of the relationship was okay with him, but unless they started _growing_, all those visions of his (and whatever was lurking in the back of her head) were going to stay out of reach. If they were going to move forward, they needed to focus on the next thing to defeat.

He raised his eyes to look at her in the mirror, and Ziva returned the gaze when she caught the movement. She narrowed her eyes slightly and cocked her head to the side as she tried to read him, but she gave up almost immediately and just asked him instead.

"What is that look on your face right now?"

Tony didn't bother checking his reflection. "I love you."

Ziva wiped her hands on a towel and turned around in the circle of his arms. She held his face between her hands as she gave him a soft, warm kiss. "I know," she assured him. "I love you, too."

The words still had the ability to bring a big, happy smile to his face, and he hoped they always would. He kissed her again, a little more deeply, and then held her hips between his hands as he looked at her seriously. "I'm not the guy I was," he told her.

He felt her fingertips press into the small of his back as she shot him a small frown. "When?"

"Back then," he said, cocking his head in the invisible direction of the past. "There was all this stuff that Jill wanted and I didn't, and I never really understood where she was coming from. She was done with the musical chairs of relationships, but I wasn't. I just wanted to live my life and see what was out there for me. But now?" He held her gaze and smiles. "Now I'm done. Now I want all that stuff she did, but I want it with you."

Ziva gave him a rare wide, free smile. "I do too."

"I think we need to keep moving things along," he continued. "I mean, I love how things are now, but I want more."

Her smile faltered and he saw a little bit of tension enter her eyes. "What are you talking about?"

He hesitated a moment before deciding that if there was ever anything they had to be honest about, it was this. "Do you want kids?"

Ziva's eyes widened and he felt her go tense against him. "Right now?" she squeaked.

He smiled broadly when he realized why she'd just started to panic. "Let me rephrase that. Do you _ever_ want kids?"

She relaxed again and pressed her chest harder against his as her arms circled his waist. "With you?" She paused to gaze up at him, and the look in her eyes made his whole body warm. "Yes. I think I would love that. In a year or two. Or three."

His smile stretched from ear to ear. "Two," he negotiated. "With a caveat that we start talking more seriously about it in a year."

"_Talking,_" she emphasized. "Yes, we can _talk_."

He grinned and started kissing her neck. "And then maybe by McGee's birthday in two years, we might _have_ a—"

"Tony," she said, not quite firmly, as she pushed him back a little. "I am getting the feeling right now that you are quite keen to get started. But I just need a little time." She held up her thumb and index finger with barely any space between them. "Just a little. Please?"

He'd mostly been messing with her with his previous comment, and now that he saw that she was slightly panicked about getting started so soon, it was easy for him to nod and reassure her. "Okay. Talk next year and see where we're at, and then keep talking after that."

She actually slumped a little with her sigh of relief. "Yes. I can agree to that."

"Good," he said, and started kissing her neck again. He had something else he wanted to talk about, and he couldn't believe he was going to do it to her now. But since they were already talking about the future, he decided to go for it. "And in the meantime—"

It was as far as he got before Ziva started laughing nervously. "Oh, God, Tony. What else are you going to surprise me with?"

He laughed against her but kept holding her tight and kissing her. "I was just going to mention that my lease is up in the summer," he said against her neck.

"Oh," Ziva drew out. "So where are you going to live after that?"

He knew her joke was payback for dumping both babies and co-habitation on her in the space of five minutes when they hadn't talked about either scenario even in passing before now. But the fact that she was still holding onto him and rubbing her hands over his back in that way she did when she was looking for some quality naked time told him that she could probably handle resolving the housing issue right now.

"I don't know," he played along. "Probably in a cardboard box somewhere down near the Potomac. Do you mind looking after my TV and my DVD collection?"

"They take up a lot of room," she returned.

He gave her neck a final kiss and then pulled his head back to look at her. "I'd like to move in here," he told her.

"Maybe," she replied, deflating his hope just a little before she continued. "Or maybe we could find a place that is a little bigger."

He smiled at her going along with the idea and brushed his thumbs over her cheekbones. "Maybe somewhere a little closer to the Navy Yard."

She nodded. "If I say _yes_ to that, will you promise not to ask me any more big questions about houses and children and other big relationship things for a little while?"

He chuckled. "Yes, I promise."

"Then yes, that sounds like a good idea."

He started to smile before he eyed her warily. "Do you really mean that? Or are you just saying it to make me shut up?"

She smirked. "Can't it be both?"

He pursed his lips. "It can be so long as you really do want to live together."

"I do."

Tony's smile returned full force, and he took her face between his hands to kiss her adoringly. He doubted she would ever have any idea how happy she made him, but he was determined to spend the next 30 or 40 years trying to show her. Ziva pressed herself into the kiss as it heated up and deepened, and soon Tony started pulling her out of the bathroom.

"Come to bed with me," he murmured. "I have a very strong urge to get naked and snuggly with you."

Ziva snorted. "Snuggly? Can't we just have sex?"

He grinned as he stripped off her top and pulled her into the bedroom. "Ziva," he sighed, "I swear to God that you and I were made for each other."

* * *

**And I'm done! With two days to spare before the finale, too.  
****So long, and thanks for all the fish.  
(P.S. This does not mean that you can all now start hassling me about finishing **_**Blush**_**, okay? I **_**know**_** I promised I'd finish it. I still intend to. But everybody just chill for a while. **_**Please**_**. Thank you.)**


End file.
